In the Eye of the Beholder
by wednesday-mc
Summary: Very Much AU, also containing mild slash. Thranduil maneuvers to have an unwilling Legolas marry Elrond. Not your usual slash: I write stories with intimacy, not heavy sex. If this flavor of tea offends you, please leave the pot for others to enjoy.
1. Chapter 1

TITLE: In the Eye of the Beholder

AUTHORS: Greenwood ('This is Greenwood' on this site) and Wednesday McKenna

ARCHIVE: Our webpage only. We also ask that our work not be nominated for any awards.

PAIRING: Legolas/Elrond

CATEGORY: Angst/Romance

RATING: PG-13

SUMMARY: Evil!Thranduil maneuvers to have an unwilling Legolas marry Elrond. This story is Alternate Universe (i.e., the story takes place within the LOTR universe but does not follow canon).

FEEDBACK: Dreaded, actually. We ask that if this flavor of tea offends you, please consider simply leaving it for someone else to enjoy rather than lashing out and hurting those who brewed it. Your beloved, original LOTR characters and world are just over there in your bookcase: pristine, intact and very much unharmed.

DISCLAIMER: _**Lord of the Rings**_ and all character names are the acknowledged trademarks of the J.R.R. Tolkien Estate and/or its licensees. Character and other creative elements from these respective works are used in this story without permission for entertainment, not-profit purposes only. .No money is collected or made off of anything on this site. Everything here is fictional (this means it never happened). Any resemblance to persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.

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**CHAPTER ONE**

It was pitch black in the dungeon cell, but Legolas didn't need vision to mark the limits of his captivity. Pacing out six restless steps, he turned. Pacing another six steps, he turned again. Endlessly he circled, like a great cat caught in a narrow cage.

For six weeks he had been incarcerated below his father, King Thranduil's, Mirkwood stone fortress. For six weeks Legolas had stayed on his feet, even during the brief twilight sleep his body demanded intermittently. He dared not sit to rest and dared even less to lie down, lest the resident rats run over anything but his booted feet. From the beginning, Legolas had shared his meager rations with them, so that they might be less inclined to want to nibble on him. It wasn't enough - was far from enough - for all of them.

The Elf felt covered in filth from the centuries-old dust that billowed up to accompany him on his endless journey around the cell. It hurt now to breathe, as he'd inhaled too much of the dust along with the mold wafting from the sickly brown moss he knew grew on the wet walls. His joints ached and he felt that he was weakening bit by bit, day by day. Worst of all, he was locked away from the light of the sun above, away from warmth and life itself.

Heavy metal doors clanged open and shut beyond his cell. Legolas didn't pause in his pacing, for he knew that his visitor was only Mithrandir, come this morning as he came every morning and evening. No guard accompanied the wizard, for none was needed. Thranduil knew his son would not harm the old man, and as for the old man trying to rescue Legolas, Mithrandir would never overstep his bounds by interfering with private punishment meted out to a wayward, disobedient son.

A small hinge at the bottom of the cell door was lifted and a tray was scraped across the cold stone. Porridge, apples, and milk were on the menu this morning, as they were every morning. The rats would descend on the porridge, and if Legolas moved quickly enough, the apples and the milk could be his.

Torchlight flickered between the cracks of the door - the only light the Elf saw each day. Forsaking the food, Legolas widened his eyes and feasted on the desperately needed radiance, but shadows interfered as the wizard moved outside of the cell. The glow disappeared altogether for a brief moment, and Legolas flinched. Had Mithrandir left again so quickly, leaving him in darkness and silence?

An impotent rage seized the Elf, along with a soul-deep urge to claw his way between the cracks of the door and seize the torch, even if it meant breaking the wrist of the hand that held it. Shaking his head, he shook away the madness behind the thought; Mithrandir little deserved such violence, and he had always been Legolas's friend. Every day, when everyone else had forgotten he was trapped below, the wizard brought food and light to the miserable captive. He didn't have to do so, and it was not Mithrandir's fault that the Elf found himself so punished.

"Do you yield?" the wizard rumbled, as he did each time he came. In his mind's eye, Legolas could see him standing with torch in hand and his ear to the door, hoping that he would be answered.

Weeks before, Legolas had stopped answering for in his pride and obstinacy the answer could never change. In defiance, he had ignored the question, had merely scooped up the mug and the apple and continued pacing.

This morning, the Elf broke off his circling and went to the door. Bowing his head against the cold iron, he closed his eyes. No Elven craft save Thranduil's key could open the door, just as no will but Thranduil's own would be allowed to guide his son's life if Legolas wished to escape this dungeon. To gain his freedom, he had to lose it forever. Sometime during the dark time, Legolas had come to understand that some cages were worse than others.

"I yield," he rasped in a voice graveled through long disuse.

A brief silence followed, as if the wizard were trying to manage his surprise. For a moment, Legolas feared that Mithrandir might simply turn and leave him there. Might leave it to Thranduil to descend the stone steps, throw back the door and gloat his triumph before releasing Legolas to walk the insane path he demanded his son follow.

But Mithrandir did not leave. No key jangled in the lock, yet the rusted tumbler still kicked over. The latch was shoved up with a sudden enthusiasm that belied any Mortal or Immortal hand upon it. Wizard-craft slammed back the door, and it tried to claim Legolas's booted toes on the journey.

Leaping backward to save his feet, the Elf blinked painfully as torchlight attacked his eyes. Stepping into the cell, the wizard slid an arm around Legolas's shoulders and squeezed hard.

"It is good to see you, young one. Are you broken within or without?"

"Never."

Legolas didn't mean the word to come out on a growl, but it did. Turning into the wizard's embrace, he inhaled deeply of the tangled beard that smelled of woodsmoke and pipeweed. His fingers dug into the rough-spun gray robes, clinging shamelessly to the first human contact he'd had in weeks. Long an adult, Legolas still felt like a child, cleaving to the only benevolence left in his life.

A callused hand raked down his hair. "Your usually golden mane is matted, and you look a royal mess. A bath and change of clothes are in order before Thranduil is allowed to witness what will probably prove a sour victory. Say good-bye to the rats and let us leave this accursed vault."

The bitterness in Mithrandir's voice did not go unnoticed by the Elf. Legolas followed to climb upward from the dungeon and entered the main corridors with what he hoped looked like proper humility to the guards stationed at various points around the keep. Extra guards, he noticed, in case Thranduil's youngest was so foolish as to try to escape. Wizard and Elf both kept their silence until they gained access to more private corridors where no guards walked.

"You called him Thranduil," Legolas murmured, testing his voice as they entered the private bath-chamber attached to his old rooms.

"I beg your pardon?"

Frantic to rid himself of weeks of filth, Legolas stripped away his soiled tunic and leggings. "Before, you always referred to him in conversation with me as 'your father.'"

"No parent should ever imprison their child, Legolas, much less force them into an unwanted bond. The Valar themselves would never condone such an action." The wizard's blue eyes were kind, but his voice held a finality which made Legolas think Thranduil had lost all claims to nobility, at least to Mithrandir. "Did any of those rats bite you? Have you wounds that need tending?"

"I am uninjured."

The old wizard still eyed Legolas's nakedness with a critical eye, and the Elf allowed the inspection as he slipped into the warm, soothing water.

"No physical injuries, any road," Mithrandir commented, "as far as I can see at the moment."

Very much aware of watching wizard, Legolas sighed and arched in the sunlight streaming through the windows of patterned stone. Reaching for the soap, he cleaned his hair thoroughly before lathering the rest of him. Ducking beneath the surface of the water to rinse off, he knew that another inspection would undoubtedly follow upon his emerging from the pool.

The Elf was not in the habit of letting others watch him bathe, but Mithrandir's caring was comforting in ways Legolas didn't quite understand. For so private an Elf as he had always been, he was letting Mithrandir creep absurdly close. But during the dark time, Legolas too had ceased to think of his captor as his father.

Mithrandir smiled to see the shift of strong muscles across Legolas's back, the easy way he moved while bathing. Such ease said that the Elf's body had not failed him during his captivity.

[He is safe now, and this pleases me,] the wizard thought, gathering an armful of thick towels and placing them well within Legolas's reach. Pacing boldly into the Elf's private chamber, he took the liberty of retrieving a fresh set of clothing and boots and carried them into the bath-chamber as well. Settling on the stone wall and waiting for the Elf to finish, he considered. [No need to wait while he heals: we can leave Mirkwood for Rivendell as soon as Thranduil allows it.]

Mithrandir had arrived six weeks before to deliver a formal message to the king from Lord Elrond of Imladris: a message that had resulted in ongoing apprehension for Mithrandir and almost immediate imprisonment for Legolas.

Thranduil's youngest son had been running with a small group of Elves who had attached themselves to a larger group of Rangers, all in an effort to prevent Mirkwood from being overrun by a colony of orcs who had decided the darkening forests of Mirkwood and Thranduil's keep were only too perfect for their purposes. At 150 years, Legolas was a proven warrior. Battling orcs and spiders over the years to help keep safe his father's kingdom, the Elf had also agreed to keep an eye on Dul Goldur for Mithrandir. He'd turned out to be an able spy, with senses so intuitive that Mithrandir joked, "I have your eyes in Dul Goldur and my own elsewhere in Middle-Earth, but we are so alike in intent that the distance matters not. You're making my task much easier, young one, whether you know it or not."

Legolas gave a rare half-smile at the compliment which had been delivered with much glee and honesty. Seeing the Elf's reaction, Mithrandir found reason to believe that generous words had been scarce in his life. The result of the words had been that as the shadows gathered ever closer to Mirkwood, Legolas was more than eager to spend time sneaking around the outskirts of Sauron's old fortress in an effort to gain additional information that might be of value to Mithrandir. And so it was that the wizard had come to admire and like the young Elf, who was yet unbonded and known even within his own community as being very much a loner.

Mithrandir had delivered Lord Elrond's message, and Thranduil had called his son home immediately after he had received it. It had taken awhile for the summons to reach Legolas, and a little while longer for him to comply with his father's wishes. So it was that Mithrandir and Thranduil received word that evening, during the banquet set in honor of the wizard's arrival, that Legolas had arrived and was waiting in the king's own chambers.

"Is he not hungry?" asked Mithrandir. "Will he not join us here at the table?"

"Legolas is a moody soul, and he is probably feeling a bit surly after being summoned home so summarily." Thranduil grinned. "I doubt his mood will improve after I order him to Imladris, and so we will make him wait a bit."

[No matter how long I spend in Middle-Earth,] thought Mithrandir with some confusion as Thranduil turned his attention back to the wine and the night's entertainment, [I will never understand one creature's glee at another creature's unhappiness.]

Having totally enjoyed the night's festivities while the wizard had not, Thranduil swept into his chambers ahead of Mithrandir in the early hours of the morning. Heading directly to his bed, he flung wide his arms so that his attendants might peel him out of the rich robes he'd worn to dinner and into a sleeping-robe more comfortable for paternal discussions.

Settling just inside the door, Mithrandir stood quietly and watched as Legolas rose from his seat before the fire. His bow and quiver had been set to one side of the hearth, with his knives stored securely behind. Never out of reach, the wizard had come to understand that they were as much a part of the long-legged young Elf as were his silver-blonde hair and blue eyes.

Mithrandir all but gasped as shadow and flame carved the high-cheekboned face into harsh relief. As always, he was struck by the austere beauty of the warrior standing before him: of all the Eldar he'd met in his travels, both male and female, this one was the most beautiful. Oblivious as always to the affect he could have on others, Legolas offered a slight bow and murmured a formal greeting.

"Good evening my father, my king. And to you as well, Mithrandir. It is good to see you." His Sindarin was low and musical, as Thranduil's was ever harsh. Blue eyes cloaked in smoke settled on the wizard, their eager light promising new spy-tales to come.

"Good evening, Legolas," Thranduil's tones dripped ice. "So nice of you to have answered my summons so promptly. I trust you had a pleasant journey and were not pulled away from anything important with your Mortal friends?"

Wariness replaced warmth in the Elf's eyes as they slid from Mithrandir to Thranduil. This, the wizard knew, was the opening gambit in yet another verbal battle between father and son - a battle which the young Elf was never allowed to win. All of Legolas's conquests, Mithrandir knew from speaking with the other Elves, had come from slipping unnoticed from the gloom of his father's fortress to run free in what remained of Mirkwood's sunlight and try to defend the beloved woodland realm that was his true home.

Always, Legolas had run with the woodland Elves and the Rangers while Thranduil tried in vain to keep the younger prince of Mirkwood home and occupy him with matters of state. That was his duty, no matter his older brother didn't need any assistance and neither did the king, so that three royal personages trying to work with the King's counselors would have been a definite crowd. Unfortunately, Thranduil ever sought to prove his ownership and control of every glittering thing within his grasp, and was determined to keep it near him. Even as a child the light that was Legolas had refused to be so kept.

[He will never be happy hiding in dark stone as his father does,] Mithrandir reflected, watching the lithe body tense, the long fingers flex briefly with echoed stress.

"I am where you wish me to be, Father." Terse words, with an unheard message: I am here... for now.

A heavy silence fell between the two Elves, until Thranduil broke it. "May it ever be so."

Waving an impatient hand, the king dismissed his attendants, gathered his robes and stepped closer to the fire. Gazing into the flames, he said, "I have received a message of great interest from the Half-Elven ruler of Imladris this afternoon. Some weeks ago his wife, the Lady Celebrian, met an unfortunate death Oversea. Shortly after her death, word spread out from Imladris that the marriage bond between her and the Half-Elven had been broken. This affords him the opportunity to seek a new mate. It also affords you and me the opportunity to strengthen the relations of our two kingdoms through a marriage alliance."

"A marriage alliance... between whom?" Legolas asked cautiously.

Rounding on his son, Thranduil narrowly avoided catching his robes on fire. "Between you and the Half-Elven, you fool. Surely this is obvious, as I have no daughter and your brother is already bonded? For the first time in your sorry life, Legolas, you will be of use to me and to Mirkwood."

"I am already of use to you and to Mirkwood," Legolas said with what seemed an ominous quiet. "I help guard your shadow-filled borders, keep safe your roads, drive away the Nazgul and the orcs, bring news of Dol Goldur when others are afraid to step within its borders, and--"

"Others are more afraid of me than they are afraid of Dol Goldur. Others will guard our borders just as well after you have joined the Half-Elven."

The younger Elf narrowed his eyes. "Let me make sure that I understand you, Father. You are suggesting that I journey to Imladris and meet Lord Elrond Peredhil for the express purpose of joining myself to him in marriage?"

"No. I am ordering you as your king to do so. The Half-Elven has agreed to my proposal to have you, and I have sent word in return that you will have him. You leave for Imladris in the morning."

A deadly silence fell, wherein even Thranduil seemed to hold his breath, waiting for the explosive tantrum that was surely to come. Mithrandir waited uneasily at the door. [This is beyond tantrum,] thought the wizard. [This is absolute insanity. I thought it the first time I heard of it from Elrond, and I still think it. Legolas and Elrond both deserve happiness, while this arrangement will bring nothing but tears.]

"No." The soft word shattered against the stone walls. Turning away from his father, Legolas retrieved his quiver and set it between his shoulders. The bow was placed just so, the knives checked secure in their sheathes. Gathering his cloak, the Elf headed for the chamber door.

Thranduil scowled. "No, what?"

Legolas turned just short of the door. "No, Father, I will not bond with Lord Elrond of Imladris. I choose exile from Mirkwood rather than fall in with this mad plan of yours."

"Exile is not among the choices laid before you," Thranduil growled. "With time, I think you will come to see that there is only one choice, and you will take it. Guards!"

They poured into the room, some from a couple of entrances behind tapestries that Mithrandir hadn't even known existed. Shoving Mithrandir aside, they nearly bowled over their king in their haste to reach Legolas before he gained the door. The young Elf went down in a mob of Elves, never drawing knife or arrow in any attempt to defend himself.

When the pile of Elves had sorted itself out, one emerged with the quiver and knives still in their sheathes. Another grasped Legolas's treasured blackwood bow so tightly that his knuckles showed white. As for Legolas, he stood quietly among three other Elves, one of which had an arm locked around his throat while the others held Legolas's arms fast at his sides.

Legolas regarded his captors sadly. "I would never hurt you."

[He grew up with them,] Mithrandir realized. [Some may even have helped train him in his youth, but he's proven the better warrior and they know what they risk to attack him. Thranduil commands that which he owns at all cost and these Elves are bought and paid for, but the cost of commanding Legolas may prove dearer than Thranduil knows. Legolas will never yield without honor.]

"Take him," the king growled.

Mithrandir watched as the guard removed the unresisting Elf. "What will you do to him?"

"I, Master Wizard?" Thranduil arched an eyebrow and gave a chilling smile. "I will do nothing to Legolas. The dungeons below will do it for me."


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO

They left at first light, with Thranduil still so furious with his younger son that he had no wish to see him. Legolas's rage, although hidden well, was no less.

"Far better then that the two of you do not meet," said Mithrandir, watching the young Elf gather a new cloak and extra set of boots, stuff extra arrows into his quiver and check the sharpness of the knives for at least the third time in the past five minutes. "We need no more emotional fireworks over this matter, or others."

"I've yielded, haven't I?" Legolas scowled back at the wizard and led the way out of the chambers he'd had since boyhood. "I've promised to join the Lord of Imladris in marriage and signed my eternity away in parchment laid before Thranduil. He's formally handed my 'care and keeping' over to you by return parchment and made you promise to see me safely We all know that my abilities are no match for your magic. If I resist you, there's any number of things you can make me to to come with you. Cast a spell of obedience over me so that I obey you and Elrond without question, or turn me into a toad and tuck me into your knapsack--"

"What an amazing imagination you have."

"You couldn't do this?"

"Of course I could. But what is to say that I would?"

"You promised my father to get me there."

"I need no magic to make you fulfill your commitment."

"Perhaps not, but you never know."

"Legolas, really. You sound as if you want me to consider you unreliable and dangerous. As if you want me to turn you into something unnatural. Would it be easier then to blame someone else for your going to Imladris, rather than your father's idiocy?"

"Yes."

Their horses were standing ready at the gate. For all of his reluctance to be on their way, Legolas lost no time making certain that Mithrandir's saddle was tight and the other tack was in order. Holding the bridle, he saw the wizard safely mounted before swinging up onto his own mount's back.

"My father has wrapped up things as neatly as if I were a maiden Elf." Using only his thigh muscles, Legolas guided his gray gelding toward Mirkwood's fortress gates. "From my brother to my wet nurse to the last guard, everyone said their farewells to me as darkness cloaked them last night. Now, they've all become scarce lest they shed a public tear at my departure and set Thranduil's wrath upon them. No one is allowed to miss me." Sad blue eyes met the wizard's. "I don't blame them, I only wish it weren't so."

He nudged the gray into a canter, with Mithrandir having no choice but to join him as they left Mirkwood behind.

"Thranduil's kingdom will not profit by your leaving," the wizard pronounced, once they'd settled into a sedate walk once more a few minutes later.

"No, it will not." There was no arrogance in the statement, only certainty. Mirkwood needed Legolas, whether Thranduil recognized it or not. And Mithrandir had needed Legolas in Mirkwood, close to Dul Goldur. Where was he to find another spy so able as this one had been?

They rode in silence for a few leagues, with Legolas obviously fuming over the fate the Valar had not seen fit to deliver him from, while the wizard watched the Elf fume.

"Do you know the last thing Thranduil said to me?" Mithrandir finally broke the silence.

"Hmm?"

"'Send me word when the Half-Elven possesses him,'" Mithrandir quoted.

The Elf made a sound that was halfway between laughter and choking. "Did he even bother to look up from his scrolls to tell you that?"

"I'm afraid not. And I'm not certain whether he means that I'm to inform him once we've arrived in Imladris, or when this maniacal marriage has been consummated."

"Tell him when we've arrived," Legolas advised, "because you must know that I'm still looking for a way out of this alliance."

"Why does this not surprise me?"

"Perhaps a council of Elves to unite the three kingdoms?" Legolas suggested. "Wouldn't that be as good as a marriage between our houses?"

"You know Thranduil despises Galadriel and cares nothing about allying Mirkwood with Lothlorian. He would never agree to send an emissary to any such council. Not to mention that you simply aren't an emissary, young one."

"I could learn to be one."

"In Elrond's court?" Mithrandir laughed outright. "You might learn to hone your flirting there, but never your diplomacy. Additionally, after what Thranduil has put you through, I expect that you'd align yourself with Elrond if only to get a little of your own back."

Legolas gave a quick of a smile. "Probably. But serving Lord Elrond in matters political would be less fearful than what I've agreed to do. Word never reached us before that he prefers the company of male Elves to females."

"He does not."

"Then why does he wish to claim me as his... bride?" The word held all the bitterness the Elf felt at his father's betrayal.

Mithrandir hesitated before answering, took the time to settle back in his saddle and adjusted his pointed hat against the glaring sunlight. When he did answer, he chose careful words. "You have heard that Lord Elrond is blessed with the gift of foresight?"

Legolas nodded.

"For years, he foresaw Celebrian's rejection of their marriage bond."

"But such a bond is supposed to be forever," Legolas pointed out.

"Such a bond is meant to be forever, but Celebrian..." The wizard shook his head. "Some suspect she never wanted to be with him, she only wanted to be the Lady of Imladris. And foresight, Elrond long ago decided, is much more of a curse than it is a blessing. For millennia, he has been locked in a sterile, loveless relationship, powerless to do anything but wait for the bond to die.

"Do not misunderstand me, Legolas. I know that you have never met Elrond and you have no idea what you're walking into. He is an Elf-lord of strong loyalties, a very long memory, a command of magical lore to rival even my own, a warrior fierce in battle who has seen many loved ones fall over the years, and...."

"And?"

"You must remember that he was trained by Gil-Galad and Glorfindel, and so fights in the old style which rivals your own. Blood weary while Gil-Galad was still alive, Elrond left his king and built Imladris as a sanctuary. He then watched while Gil-Galad decided that, so central was Imladris's location to the wars, nothing else was acceptable but that every army was to be outfitted from there. And so, Elrond's peaceful sanctuary was invaded, but honor demanded that he obey his king."

"As I must obey mine?"

"Not exactly. Gil-Galad fostered Elrond from the time he was a toddler, so the king was the only father Elrond ever knew. He became Gil-Galad's herald in adulthood and their paternal bond was ten times closer then yours with Thranduil. Gil-Galad put serving Middle-Earth ahead of ruling the Elves. Elrond has done no less, regardless some like Thranduil curse him for it. For Elrond to betray a son or a loved one as Thranduil has done... Such selfishness would simply never happen.

"Then how - why has Elrond agreed to this marriage alliance?"

"I'm certain that his own desires do not enter into it, any more than yours do. Mirkwood and Imladris have ever been at odds, with outright war threatening at certain times. Whether he likes it or not, in power and positioning Elrond is central to the Elven kingdoms. Whatever Sauron sends over the coming years, the kingdoms must unite or fall.

"Thranduil will not accept assistance from Galadriel, and Elrond was allianced with Lothlorien even before he married Celebrian. Therefore, in the short term Thranduil has been unwilling to accept assistance from Elrond. If the two of you actually marry, that solidifies Thranduil's alliance with Imladris. It also sidesteps Thranduil's pride to the point that the matter of Galadriel becomes moot. Celebrian is dead and you would be bonded to Elrond. Mirkwood would be bonded to Elrond as well, through you. As you would be Elrond's mate, the alliance between Mirkwood and Imladris would be stronger than that shared between Lothlorien and Imladris. Come what may to Lothlorien, Elrond would be honor-bound to fight to preserve Mirkwood.

"Since the shadows began creeping out again, Elrond has sought a way to protect Mirkwood from Sauron's growing strength. Unfortunately," Mithrandir concluded, "you were the way shown to him."

"I... see," Legolas murmured. "So Lord Elrond wants me as a lover as much as I want him, and I should not expect to be ravished my first night in Imladris."

"I would expect that you should expect to never be ravished."

Legolas looked puzzled. "But the bond must be consummated if this alliance between kingdoms is to be finalized, so how would Lord Elrond and I--"

"That is something you must discuss with Lord Elrond." Mithrandir felt himself blush. If the Elf's eartips were anything to go by, he too was embarrassed. [It's either that, or Elves have learned how to sunburn.] The wizard cleared his throat. "Let's return to safer subjects, shall we?"

"Safer for you."

"Elrond is called Half-Elven, as Thranduil was determined to emphasize," Mithrandir pontificated, steadily ignoring Legolas's gloomy pronouncement. "Never mind that Elrond's actual lineage is closer to eight-tenth's Elven than only half. And he is Immortal by his own choice, which choice was bestowed by the Valar themselves. Elrond is all too aware of the blood some pure Elves consider tainted. It is one of the reasons why he is Lord of Imladris rather than its king. He serves, he does not rule, and he has honor, Legolas, every bit as fierce as your own. Honor, rather than passion, has guided most of his actions and much of his life.

"Once, I'm certain that he harbored hopes of bonding in a more loving relationship when Celebrian finally set him free, but time has a way of destroying such dreams. Time can also destroy all hope of passion, and Elrond is close to 6,000 years old. His willingness to enter into a second, empty bond with you tells me that the Elven lord must think that in his case all hope is dead. If you are so foolish as to want to lock yourself into a bond with him - as Thranduil has led him to believe - then Elrond apparently isn't prepared to refuse duty or cling to any hope of something better with someone else.

"I'm beginning to understand how he feels," Legolas said quietly. "This marriage is not what I foresaw when I looked forward to joining my life to someone else's forever. I've never been kicked in the teeth by a stallion, but losing one's family and one's chance to love forever must feel about the same."

Reaching out, Mithrandir patted Legolas's knee. "Don't despair just yet, young one, for such things have a way of working out."

"How can this work out, if there is no hope of our being attracted to each other, much less falling in love with each other?"

"I do not know, but what I tell you now is for your ears only. I tell you only because as Elrond's promised mate you have the right to know. Elrond loved Celebrian, make no mistake. But she was a cold creature - far colder than her mother Galadriel could ever be. Marrying the Lord of Imladris was the best alliance Celebrian could hope for. She married out of resignation rather than love, and that resignation turned to bitterness after she was attacked by orcs. The public version of that story is that Elrond could not heal her emotional hurts. Privately, he has confessed to me that she simply could not stand the sight of him any longer. So you see, Elrond has never been loved, regardless he loved his wife. I would not wish the same fate to befall you, Legolas."

"I've heard that Celebrian could not defend herself in battle. I can."

"You deliberately misunderstand the fate I fear may be in store for both you and Lord Elrond if you bond blindly to each other. Celebrian's physical injuries healed under Elrond's care. The wounds she carried Oversea and those she inflicted before her departure burrowed deeper than any orc poison could.

"Listen to me and listen well, Legolas: the mate you are committed to claiming is every bit the proud, injured warrior you are. While you cannot make him happy any more than he can make you happy, you would do well not to humiliate him in public or in private. You would also do well to seek a common ground on which the two of you may become friends, as lovers seem an impossibility."

"And why should I do that, Mithrandir?"

"Because Elrond is out of patience with bonds, dreams and empty hope. There is nothing left for him on this side of the Undying Lands but that he continue his neverending quest to defeat Sauron. If you make of Elrond an enemy, if you refuse to fulfill your promise to bond with him or if you bond and then humiliate or injure him further, do not expect the same patient treatment that Celebrian enjoyed.

"Elrond will not send you to anything so simple as a dungeon if you make him miserable. There are no dungeons in Imladris, and I doubt that he would ever send you into a world of relative freedom Oversea. You would not escape him so easily, nor would your torment be as brief as six weeks. He would keep you here and make you more miserable than you could ever imagine being. For there is a difference between you and Celebrian that I am certain you would never consider."

"And what might that be?" Legolas asked, plainly dreading the answer.

"Lord Elrond loved her. He does not love you."


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER THREE

Brushing out the hood of his cloak, Legolas discarded the inch of snow that had settled on the cloth over the past two hours. Replacing the hood, he watched as Mithrandir shivered in the storm, still searching as he had since nightfall for the hidden path leading into the steep ford before them. Imladris was somewhere down there, safely hidden in the snow. The cold didn't affect the Elf, but he was starting to be concerned for the wizard.

"We could make camp here," he suggested. "The trees offer some shelter. We could begin a fire, and you could sleep until dawn and try again then. When you are somewhat more awake, perhaps?"

"No!"

"Stubborn old wizard."

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I am." Whirling, Mithrandir nearly slipped. "Each time I come here, it's a bother to find this path. I swear that Elrond changes it with every season. He's entirely capable of doing so, you know?"

"Is he?" Pulling off his cloak, the Elf offered it to his companion. "Put this on, please? The cold will not bother me, and you need the extra layer of protection."

Mithrandir sputtered a protest, but Legolas ignored it. Pulling the rough-spun dampened cloak from the wizard's shoulders, he bundled Mithrandir up in the less-damp scarf and Legolas's own cloak. Layering the dampened cloak over it all for insulation, Legolas fastened the layers with his own broach. Pulling the smaller hood up over the wizard's head, he crammed the gray, pointed hat atop it and then yanked the hood of Mithrandir's own cloak atop that to make the old man as warm as he could. Satisfied that Mithrandir wouldn't freeze to death in the next couple of hours, regardless the wizard had very little peripheral vision, Legolas set to searching the ford's edge himsElf in an exact pattern with the ease of one familiar with tracking through the wood in all weather.

"What, exactly, are we looking for?" the Elf asked.

"A space large enough for two horses to move abreast," said the wizard, "protected by brambles and Elbereth knows what else."

"Like this?" Legolas shook a gorse bush free of snow and used his bow to shove back the thorny branches. The bush yielded easily, untangling from its companions to reveal a bare track which led steeply down the side of the gorge. "The track is more narrow than you describe, but--"

"Ah, you've found it and Lord Elrond *did* change it, the wretch! I was here but weeks ago, and I swear to you that it was wider and certainly more obvious. Mount up, young one, we're nearly there. There shall be mulled wine to warm us and soft beds to cradle us. You'll soon learn that Lord Elrond is no stingy host."

Less than an hour later, they crossed the bridge over the River Bruinen and entered Imladris's courtyard. The snow was still falling and no one appeared to greet them or to take the horses, but the twinkling lights were a welcome sight all the same.

"I've not known Elrond to be this inattentive to those arriving at his borders," Mithrandir observed, glancing about the courtyard from his now-stationary horse. "I wonder what occupies everyone?"

"The sky is glowing," said Legolas, helping the wizard off of the animal.

"Hmm? Glowing?" Turning as Legolas gestured, the wizard looked over the tall spires of the Last Homely House this side of the Grey Havens, where a bright and shifting orange light suffused the snowflakes falling through the night.

"It looks like the forge is on fire." Looking more than a little alarmed, the wizard gathered his robe and hurried along the stone wall bordering the gathering of dwellings.

Leaving the horses unattended in the courtyard, Legolas followed his companion, who soon gained entrance to a garden. Well-kept paths and groomed terraces lay in winter silence, dormant until spring, but Elven hearing could pick up the sounds of panicked shouting beyond the stillness. Breaking into a trot, Legolas left Mithrandir and the garden behind. Within seconds, he had crossed a small stream and was traversing an expansive lawn that served as a break between the main house and the forge.

The forge was intact, but the stable beyond it was not. Smoke billowed from the gabled roof, flames licked at the snowy sky, and Legolas was close enough now to hear the screams of the terrified horses trapped within. He skidded to a halt in the snow not far from where three Elves were struggling to hold back a fourth.

"Let go!"

"You can't go in there, Elrond!" another Elf called from where he stood, close by the stable entrance. Pulling back his long golden hair, he quickly secured it with a clasp. "You'd go up like a paper candle in those robes, and you're too valuable to lose."

"They are my friends, Glorfindel, part of my family for years." It was a voice Legolas knew had commanded armies, but in this moment, Lord Elrond sounded more vulnerable than the Elf had ever imagined an Elven warrior could sound.

"You know as well as I do that there's no way to put out this fire or to save the stable--"

"You can't expect me to stand here and watch them burn!"

"I most certainly do not. I will see to the horses while you organize watering down the roofs and walls of Imladris. There is more at risk than the stable."

"Glorfindel, you cannot go in there alone."

"We're wasting time." Ignoring the Elf-lord, Glorfindel stalked up to a group of Elves who stood trembling and chattering in disorganized fear nearby.

"You four, help Lord Elrond!" he snapped, grabbing the sleeve of a paralyzed bystander and shoving him toward the Elven lord. The others leaped into motion at his heels. "You -- prepare to open the stable door and slam it after me. And you--" Glorfindel pointed at another Elf who even now was inching away from bright, falling embers, as if he was fearful they would set him aflame. "Stand with your friend at the other door and do not move until you hear my shout from within. I'll have your liver if a horse we send out can't run free because you've deserted your post. Close the door behind each horse as we release it, so its instincts can't lead it right back inside."

Buried in the crowd of Elves now hustling him along, a miserable-looking Elrond was being forced to head for the main house. Having caught up with Legolas at last, Mithrandir laid a hand on his shoulder.

"There's nothing to be done to stop the fire," he murmured as the Elf threw his bow aside in the snow.

"I know. The flames are too hot, too overwhelming." Kneeling, the Elf sorted through the layers of cloak Mithrandir wore. Pulling a small knife from his boot, Legolas cut a large square of cloth and tied it securely over his nose and mouth.

"Just what do you think you are doing, young one?"

"At least I'm doing something, unlike the rest of that useless lot. Is that the best Imladris has to offer? I'd expected better." Unbuckling his quiver, Legolas tossed it and the knives in their protective sheathes aside before striding toward the stable..

A broad hand caught his elbow. "You can't be thinking of going in there. At least wet the cloth on your face!"

"Glorfindel will need help, and cloth heats more slowly if it's dry." He shivered as another equine scream of fear and pain reached over the noise of the flames, then brushed away the fingers holding him. "I've done this before, Mithrandir. Don't fret."

"Have you any idea what your father will do if something happens to you?"

"I have to try." Grey eyes locked into blue, but Legolas did not waver.

Heaving a great sigh, the wizard nodded his acceptance. "My powers cannot stop this fire, but I will help as I can. You have about eight minutes to get everyone out, including yourself."

Legolas moved forward and pushed up on Glorfindel as he slipped through the tall door. Heat surrounded them as the door slammed closed behind them, and the older Elf spared the newcomer a startled glance as if to say, 'who are you?'

"Mithrandir says we have eight minutes!" Legolas shouted over the roar of the flames, which suddenly seemed to pull back, away from the Elves and up into the rafters of the huge old stable. A result of the wizard's seldom seen but still formidable magic, Legolas assumed. He thought it was a pity that Mithrandir couldn't pull away the smoke and heat as well.

"Best we don't waste time!" Glorfindel shouted back. "The foals are in a round paddock at the back of the barn. Stallion stalls line the west wall, while the mares and geldings are housed to the east." He gestured, illustrating. "They're separated by the tack room, which has a door on each side, and this fire is closest to the stallions. Start with them and work your way around to the mares. I'll release the foals out the back, then head for the ladies. We'll send them all out the front."

[Better to send the stallions and the mares out onto the lawn than mix big horses with the foals and let them be trampled.] Nodding his understanding, Legolas dared to ask, "How long has it been burning?"

"Best guess is about five minutes. Lantern tipped and broken in the tackroom," he added as they moved through the smoky aisle.

It was a five-minute headstart, but Mithrandir had gifted them another eight. Stripping off his soft leather tunic and bundling it in one hand, Legolas moved away from Glorfindel and headed for the first stall. He quickly lost sight of the other Elf in the smoke and knew that they had less than seven minutes now to rescue whoever would allow it. After that, smoke inhalation could end each horse's life, no matter anyone's efforts to save it.

Flames poured out of the door of what Legolas assumed was the tack room. Using that room as a corridor to reach the mares was already an impossibility. Ignoring that problem for the moment, Legolas obeyed Glorfindel's instructions and headed for the first stall on his left.

He didn't run, nor did he fling open the stall door, as to do so was the surest way to further terrify the stallion within. Legolas had seen others try to hurry during smaller fires, had seen precious seconds lost by their chasing the horse around its stall. Unlatching the stall door, the Elf projected calm and control to the animal standing at the rear of the small box with its head held high and its dark eyes wild.

Smoke billowed in from above, and the roar of the flames was deafening. Legolas could see that the stallion was already panicked. Running to the rear of the stall where safety usually waited, the animal had tried to climb the wall in an effort to get out of the smoke. His hooves had only scraping futilely on the smooth wooden boards lining his stall, and his head was up in the thickest smoke, as it probably had been for long minutes already. The stallion came down on the smoldering bedding, only to rear once again.

[His lungs are surely damaged,] Legolas thought, despairing of being able to save this one, even if he managed to get him outside.

Murmuring calm words of assurance, the Elf used his tunic as a blindfold, tying the sleeves below the animal's throat and letting the body of the garment fall to cover his muzzle as well. Now blind to the terror around him, the horse could only focus on the Elf at his side.

"Tolo," Legolas ordered firmly. 'Come,' but the trembling horse resisted all of the Elf's efforts to make him move forward. Legolas pushed him sideways to break his stance, then tugged on the ends of the tunic wrapped tight around his chin to lead him forward. "Tolo," he ordered again.

Much to Legolas's relief, the horse stepped up. Leading him swiftly from the stall, the Elf pounded on the stable door. It swung open immediately, and Legolas yanked his improvised blindfold from the stallion's head and released him into the night. The door thumped shut behind him as he headed for the next stall.

He had only a moment of satisfaction at the first horse's release from the inferno. [One down, how many to go?] Legolas wondered as he dove back into the rapidly thickening smoke. He worked his way systematically down the aisle with some horses cooperating and some not, and he skipped the blindfold with any horse that did more than jerk its head away. Some greeted this stranger with aggression borne of panic as Legolas slipped into the stall. He had to leave those who reared to strike or whirled to kick him: there just wasn't time to argue the point, and if he were injured, Legolas knew that he couldn't save any others, much less himself.

Large embers were floating on the smoke now, and the rafters were beginning to crack and moan. Time was growing short, and Legolas realized that he wouldn't make it across the stable to the mares or the geldings on the other side. He only hoped that Glorfindel would.

The heat was heavier, the smoke was thicker, and even through the protective cloth both were attacking Legolas's own lungs. Some of the more aggressive stallions were trying to bite him out of fear, were lungeing at the stranger who had emerged out of the smoke without warning. The result meant that Legolas had to be even more careful when he wanted to do was hurry a bit more. The Elf's arms were still covered by his outer tunic, so that many of the bites snatched at the shining blue undergarment and not at him. A few stallions allowed him to blindfold them once they'd tasted the cloth, but others would not stop fighting, so that Legolas had to leave them in their stalls, no matter he knew he was leaving them to die.

If an animal fought, Legolas simply had to move on to the next which might not fight at all. It mattered not that he wanted to save all of them, that he felt as if his heart was breaking every time he backed out of a stall and left its occupant behind. He knew all too well that these war-horses were the heart and soul of Lord Elrond's breeding program; to own one was to be owned by the finest and fiercest Middle-earth had to offer. Their reputation to protect and defend their riders spanned millenia, and Legolas had never thought to be so close to one in his lifetime, much less to have to abandon so many to terror and flame.

[I came in here knowing we wouldn't save every one,] he thought. [If I get the chance, I'll come back. Once they've seen others led out, they might cooperate.] In any case, Legolas left the stall doors open, to leave room for them to change their minds. More than once he was gratified to find a shadowy form waiting at the door, but not often enough. The screaming in the stalls was intensifying as the drifting embers caught in the straw bedding.

[Mithrandir,] he begged silently, [Don't let them burn, please don't let them burn--]

Smoke was pouring out from the stalls themselves and into the wide center aisle by the time Legolas reached the last box. The seal of the House of Elrond graced the door of this stall and the cheekpiece of the halter hanging on a hook beside it, all well out of reach of the eager teeth of the stallion within. The halter itself was an ominous sign that other Elves could not handle the beast within without resorting to the tack used by Men.

Legolas pushed the thought aside and ignored the halter, which was already cracked and charred; using it was probably an impossibility, but no matter the risk this horse still deserved a chance at life. Legolas knew that the stallion he was about to meet was probably Elrond's foundation sire, housed in what was supposed to be the safest and most secure stall in the entire barn. The smoke was so black by now that the halter seal was one of the last things Legolas saw clearly.

Unlatching the door by touch rather than sight, the Elf snatched back his hand and sucked in his breath as Elrond's seal burned the palm of his hand. Cradling his damaged hand, he entered the stall to see flames licking over the tops of the walls and felt smoke singe his lungs.

A huge white stallion stood to the right of the door, his head lowered and ears flattened at the hot, roaring threat. Swinging his great head, he eyed Legolas almost angrily, bared his teeth, and drove a hoof into the bedding.

"I'm not responsible for this," Legolas murmured. "I've come to take you safely out of here if you'll let me."

Rafters groaned and cracked somewhere close above, making both Elf and horse start at the sound, and Legolas knew without looking that his eight minutes were up.

[So this is how my life will end,] he thought, strangely at peace with his fate. Still, he had to at least try to save the majestic creature before him. Raising his uninjured hand, he showed the stallion his tunic and tried to slide it over the top of the horse's head.

"Will you let me do this?" he rasped through a throat made raw by the heat.

The stallion threw his head, snapping at the cloth as he spun past him and circling the stall: the answer was no. Wheeling around, he shoved at the stall door just as a burning beam fell heavily in the middle of the aisle. Sparks shot out, attacking the horse. Screaming, he reared and struck at the door as part of another rafter fell. The door swung back violently, struck the stall wall with a sharp bang. The stallion had a clear path if he'd only take it.

"Go!" Legolas yelled, swinging the tunic to slap him on the rump. Flames licked close to the stallion's forelegs and he trembled, but he also refused to move. Snorting and coughing in the smoke, he canted an ear and an eye toward Legolas. The flames crept closer, starting to devour the stall wall itself and crept across the ceiling above their heads. Sparks showered down, tiny stinging pinpricks landing on unprotected skin and hide..

Legolas knew that his own means of escape was in doubt as the stable died around them. And still the stallion waitedfor what? For some word? Some unknown command? From a stranger? Perhaps from a rider?

"Let's get out of here," Legolas muttered.

Legolas knew that the stallion might fight and even kill him in this effort to escape, but he also knew that he had nothing to lose by trying. Grabbing a handful of mane with his good hand, the Elf leaped onto the horse's back. Muscles bunched beneath him, and Legolas tightened his own thigh muscles. Gathering himself, the stallion leaped over a flaming beam to land further down the aisle. Stretching his long neck, he cantered defiantly toward the unseen stable door.

"Open the doors!" Legolas shouted, lying almost flat on the horse's neck in an effort to avoid the black smoke billowing around them. "Open the doors!"

His voice was so hoarse, so raspy from the smoke that he wasn't sure anyone could hear him. The fire roared its anger at their attempted escape, surely drowning out his shouts. Legolas could feel the determination of the stallion beneath him and knew better than to interfere. Elrond's finest would never yield to the fire; the stallion would fight until the flames claimed his dying breath and take the Elf with him.

[That's just fine with me,] Legolas thought as he recognized the selflessness and courage of a great horse that would give its all. [I will die in good company, should it come to that. I only wish I had reached you sooner.]

Whole wooden beams were falling now, smashing into the stalls and tumbling around them. The sound of hooves on stone told him that other horses were clattering down the stone aisle behind them -- others were following the stallion out. The horses remaining in the collapsing stalls screamed in anguish, but the stallion beneath Legolas did not flinch. Reaching the back doors, he pulled up and screamed a warning at the solid wood. When it did not yield, he circled once to gain his position, reared, and struck with his front hooves. Dropping down as the door did not open, the stallion reared again, laid on with his weight and slammed back both doors as easily as he'd slammed back the stall door.

Grooms shouted in the snow and scrambled out of the way. Legolas had a brief image of Glorfindel standing to the side and staring as they streaked by. Holding tightly onto the mane with both the sound and the burned hand, Legolas didn't try to do anything else; the stallion was plainly in control and, given the fact that he'd just rescued his rescuer, Legolas was contented to have it so. Wincing as the cold night air hit his badly singed lungs, Legolas wondered briefly how much smoke the stallion had inhaled, and if this grand escape was all for nothing.

[One miracle at a time,] he reflected as the animal singled out one Elf in the night and came to a sudden stop before him. Someone's hands were in the horse's mane, groped over Legolas's own. Someone else's hand was sliding up Legolas's thigh, and he heard Mithrandir's voice.

"That was certainly amazing. Are you hurt?"

"I don't think so."

Sliding off of the horse, Legolas gasped and leaned against the wizard. Yanking off the cloth protecting his face and shaking strands of damp hair from his face, the Elf stepped back as someone invaded his private space, stood almost on his toes. The stallion and Mithrandir's solid chest prevented Legolas from going too far. Looking up, he met the smoldering gray eyes of the austere-looking Elf he'd heard addressed earlier as Lord Elrond.

The Elf-lord opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. With his high brow furrowed in seeming confusion, he absentmindedly stroked the mane and chest of the stallion who stood quietly beside him, his long fingers futilely trying to soothe the blackened spots in the white hair where the embers had burned. Snowflakes peppered Elrond's Elf's long black hair which flowed wildly across his shoulders. The wind whipped the stallion's long white mane across it, joined it in stark contrast.

"How did you...." Elrond finally managed.

"He came to find you," Legolas said simply, trying to get the words out before the urge to cough became overwhelming, "and he was kind enough to take me along for the ride. I hope Glorfindel managed to save the foals and some of the mares and geldings; I couldn't reach them in time."

"Glorfindel saved all of the foals. As for the others..." He gestured shortly at a makeshift paddock nearby, where the animals circled restlessly, endlessly as the fire continued to burn. The screaming within the stable had stopped now.

Legolas nodded and stifled a cough. "That is well."

The wheezing was becoming more pronounced, and his hand stung unbearably. It was time to end this conversation. Turning away from Elrond, Legolas found himself enfolded in Mithrandir's protective embrace.

"You reek of smoke," said the wizard, starting to lead his charge away from the crowd. "A bath is in order, and then I think a long rest."

"You are a stranger here, are you not?" Elrond interrupted their departure. Off of Legolas's brief nod, the Elf-lord continued, "Why, then, did you risk your life for my horses?"

"I like horses," Legolas replied quietly before Mithrandir led him away.


	4. Chapter 4

CHAPTER FOUR

Legolas started awake, tearing himself from yet another nightmare of burning stalls and screaming horses only to discover he was struggling against an unseen foe. Happily, the foe was only his own hair, which had wrapped around his throat, and a blanket, which seemed determined to cocoon him.

Coming fully awake, he calmed to find himself lying haphazadly across a broad bed in an unfamiliar chamber. Leaf-shadowed sunlight streamed through windows open to all of Imladris, and a slight breeze caressed the Elf as he coughed spasmodically. Neither the coughing nor the repulsive black phlegm he expelled eased the heaviness in his chest or the pain throbbing in his head. Wheezing, he thought that the acrid smell of smoke surrounding him had to be carried on his own foul breath. Reason returned a moment later to argue that the stench was only an unhappy part of his hair and clothes.

Legolas remembered Mithrandir suggesting a bath the night before, but the Elf had been too exhausted to comply. He had a vague memory of the wizard steering him toward a bed and pushing him down onto it. Still dressed, except for his boots, Legolas now found his physical condition replusive.

[I'm getting very tired of getting dirty through no fault of my own,] he reflected. [First my father's dungeons, and now this? A bath is definitely in order this morning, but where are my weapons?]

Sitting up, he shoved the hair from his eyes and looked about. There his things were, resting haphazardly nearby along with the packs he'd brought from Mirkwood. From the way the bow had been piled on top of the quiver rather than propped respectfully in the corner, Legolas thought that Mithrandir had to have seen to them.

[At least they weren't just left abandoned in the snow.] Legolas had known the wizard all of his life, but it was the first time he could recollect Mithrandir's cleaning up after him.

Moving stiffly from the bed, Legolas sorted through the packs for a change of clothing and gathered his boots before leaving the chamber.

"Could you tell me which way to the baths?" he asked after stopping an official-looking Elf in the corridor.

The Elf sniffed in disgust at the smelly visitor before directing him down a narrow flight of stone stairs set in a corner of the corridor. Following them until their end, Legolas took the right archway as he'd been instructed, which led into the underground hot springs sectioned off for the male citizens of and visitors to Imladris. Entering the steamy chamber, he set aside his boots and bundle of clean clothing before stripping down.

Water lapped gently at the edges of the pool, and Elrond considered purring as its warmth soaked into his very bones. The night had been long and the struggle to save his beloved horses was only just beginning. Still, the Elf-lord was determined to start the battle as relaxed as was possible after snatching only a few hours of sleep. Stretching his arms out over the stone terrace, he rested the back of his head on the stone and basked in the privacy and warmth.

The sound of bare feet moving quietly over damp stone reached his ears, and Elrond half-slitted his eyes open to see who dared to invade his reverie. The invader wouldn't dare be Erestor, as he'd ordered his majordomo to stop hovering like any mortal nanny and disappear until mid-day meal.

Erestor it was not. Instead, Elrond found himself recognizing the strange Elf who had appeared the night before. Moving stiffly and looking much the worse for the damage of the fire, the mussed blonde elf set about undressing.

The process went slowly as he tried to use his left hand, which appeared to be injured. Even at a distance, Elrond could see that the burn to his palm was swollen and livid red, surely sending knifeshards of pain throughout the hand whenever thumb or fingers were shifted. Thonged lacings fought the Elf's efforts without compassion, so that he hissed in a breath only to cough uncontrollably on the exhale.

"You're not well," Elrond murmured, and the cavernous room amplified his voice fivefold. "Your lungs have been singed by smoke and that hand needs tended."

"I am well enough." The Elf's voice was raspier than Elrond remembered from the night before. It was impossible to tell what he had sounded like before the fire had burned his airways.

Elrond watched as sheer determination eventually conquered the scorched clothing, which the Elf then tossed disdainfully into the discard basket sitting at the door. Turning, he avoided meeting his host's gaze and stepped down into the water. A natural elegance and pride etched every move this Elf made, so much so that Elrond thought if this one had been a stallion the Elf-lord would have sought to add him to the herd.

[Nice lines,] he thought. [Very nice lines.]

Elrond had scant time to note the long legs of his guest, the well-formed chest and muscular shoulders before the water embraced him. The injured hand, Elrond noted, was held well above the water's surface. Settling into a niche across from his companion, the stranger mournfully eyed the floating tray of soap as well as the stack of washing clothes that were well within reach at the edge of the pool.

"You know," Elrond said conversationally, "there are times after a battle when no matter how much you want to, bathing is simply too much of an effort. It would be a bit of repayment for your efforts last night to let me help you this morning, would it not?"

The Elf considered the question for what seemed an inordinately long time. Finally, albeit reluctantly, he nodded. [Do we hate being vulnerable?] Elrond wondered. [Who among us does not?] Elrond observed, sliding up beside the Elf and reaching for the soap as it floated by. Wary blue eyes regarded him. Imperceptible to anyone but another warrior-trained, the Elf tensed.

[Doesn't he like being touched?] Elrond wondered.

"Let's start with your hair, shall we?" He used his most casual tone, the one which many years ago had been reserved for his children. "Wet it for me, please?"

Consent came in the form of wet hair, but the thin lips were now pursed tight and the jaw was locked so tightly that the Elf's cheekbones were set into sharp relief.

"Relax," Elrond murmured, liberally lathering the tarnished golden strands. "There is no dishonor in needing help occasionally."

The Elf's breathing accelerated to the point that he began coughing again. Resting a hand on his back, Elrond listened to the wet sound with growing concern.

"You've inhaled as much smoke as some of the horses you saved," he commented when the fit had passed.

"I am fine."

"Your lungs are not fine, and that hand is not fine." Authority weighted the Elf-Lord's words. "Neither injury will heal without aid - aid which I can provide if you will allow it. Or would you rather suffer?"

The Elf wheezed painfully, obviously against his will. "Your skill as a healer is well-known, Lord Elrond."

"And?"

"I do not wish to suffer...unduly."

[Unduly?] Elrond thought, [As if he expects some suffering to be unavoidable or even appropriate at my hands? Most Elves would welcome my help; why does this one react so strangely?] "If you will accompany me to my chambers after this bath, I will make every effort to ease your suffering."

A short nod, reluctant in the extreme, but yielding nonetheless as if the Elf had no real choice in the matter. Soaping the cloth, Elrond moved to clean rigid shoulders and a tension-ridden back, as well as the Elf's right side before handing the cloth over to its owner.

"You can tend other places yourself?"

"Yes." Almost strangled, that agreement.

Growing frustrated with his own bewilderment and inability to reassure his patient-to-be, Elrond departed the pool abruptly. Padding across the wet stones, he rung out his hair before gathering the long strands into a towel and using another to dry himself off. When he turned, he found the stranger's eyes upon him once more.

"Do you wish help drying off?" Elrond asked.

"No. And...yes." The revelation came so softly, it was all but lost in the chamber.

Elrond took full advantage of the opportunity to watch the strange Elf exit the pool. More curious than he would have admitted about this one who had indebted its owner so completely the night before, Elrond assessed the lithe body with an experienced warrior's gaze.

[He has an archer's shoulders and back,] the Elf-lord noted. [And then there are the braids.]

The Elf came to stand before him, and Elrond reached up to finger the ragged braid at the stranger's temple. To give the younger Elf credit, he flinched but did not move away.

[Are you afraid of me?] Elrond wondered. Aloud, he commented, "These will need repaired."

"They are not necessary at the moment." Deftly and despite the hand injury, the Elf undid both braids. He then motioned as if to gather and pull back the front hair, but abandoned the effort as if only just remembering he would need both hands to do so.

"Once it dries, I will pull it back for you, if you wish," Elrond offered.

Another tight nod of acquiescence.

Laying a hand on the Elf's shoulder, Elrond waited until reluctant blue eyes once again met his. "I can sense how much you hate the situation. Think of me only as a healer, and I will be as quick and impersonal as possible each time I touch you."

A look of stupified confusion met that attempt at reassurance, as if such consideration from the Lord of Imladris was the last thing this Elf expected. Reaching with careful gentleness, Elrond retrieved a fresh towel and began drying his charge. To his gratification, the lithe body did not tense further. Neither, however, did it relax.

[He startles as easily as a new fawn. He also seems to think that he must obey me against his will or that I will seek to dominate or control him in some way. Most Elves trust me, so something is terribly amiss here,] Elrond thought. [I do not know what, and I fear prying to discern what it is will only make him flee my presence.]

Elrond's gaze followed his hands, and he was unable to avoid assessing the conformation of the body beneath them as he was unable to avoid assessing any stallion's conformation when it stood before him. A glance at the long fingers still busy with the braids confirmed Elrond's first assessment; the heavy callouses of an expert archer were easily visible on his fingertips. Nodding to himself, Elrond continued his visual inspection.

[Here are the long, elegant legs of a runner. And here are the firm calf and thigh muscles of an experienced rider. Perhaps he is a scout. Given his reactions - so obvious and easily read - I would say that he cannot be more than two hundred years old.]

"You are as beautiful as Sereg'wethrin," Elrond commented softly, wicking the towel down the long back and letting his hand glide around and over a hip one last time.

Long fingers clenched, the damp head turned. If those eyes had held wariness before, they held downright hostility now. Quickly dampened, their expression still held smoldering resentment.

"Sereg'wethrin? The assassin?" the Elf asked. Turning to his clean clothing, he pulled on tunic and leggings, yanked on his boots with a speed that belied the wound to his hand.

"Assassin, my foundation sire whom you saved last night."

"Why do you call him that?"

"Because he protects those he loves and respects, and tries to kill all others whom he considers a threat."

"I... see." For some reason, the resentment in the Elf's gaze had softened into thoughtfulness.

"Would you like to accompany me for an update on the horses once we tend that cough and your hand?"

"Yes, Lord Elrond." No hesitation there, at least.

Shrugging into his robes, the older Elf led the way from the baths, shortened his stride to accommodate his companion's injured lungs, and waited for him to pace him in the corridors.

"It took me a long time to rest last night," Elrond confided. "Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the stable in flames, my friends dying."

"The same dream woke me up," came the quiet confession. "Such nightmares will probably continue for some time." The Elf glanced up at his taller companion. "I don't wish to be critical, my lord, but building a stable that close to a forge seems the height of folly."

"I agree, which is why its replacement is being build some distance away on the opposite side of the fields. You realize that this fire was probably set deliberately?"

"Deliberately? Glorfindel said that someone was careless with a lantern in the tack room."

Elrond nodded. "Many races pass through Imladris. By a very old tradition based on the value of the horses we breed, only Elves are allowed inside the stable, which includes the tack room. Elven sight has no need of lanterns in the dark, so tell me why a lantern would be needed within last night?"

Pausing in the corridor, Elrond regarded the Elf at his side. "I would welcome any help in discovering the who and how of the fire. Given your role in saving my friends last night, there are visitors in Imladris who might be encouraged to speak to you as they would not to others."

The Elf gave a slight bow. "I will seek information as I can, my lord."

Legolas followed Elrond through what appeared to be a very large library and up a staircase leading onto a narrow balcony. He had little time to study the life-size sculptures and wall murals before they reached an arched doorway graced with delicate carvings at the end of the balcony. Following Elrond through the archway, Legolas found himself in an antechamber to what appeared to be the elf- lord's private chambers.

Setting aside parchment and pen, a tall, blonde Elf turned to greet them. "Ah, so you haven't drowned. I had given up and was writing you a note."

"Glorfindel. Have you been waiting long?" asked Elrond.

"Long enough. Erestor said you were bathing. I understand now why it so long to finish the job." He raked Legolas with a critical gaze, then arched an eyebrow and smirked.

Regardless he could feel the tips of his ears growing red, Legolas refused to look away. [I should become accustomed to such innuendo,] he thought. [Am I not, after all, here to become Elrond's consort?]

"It is not as you think it, Glorfindel," Elrond murmured.

"Of course it's not."

"Have you forgotten that we're expecting Thranduil's son to arrive any minute?"

"Of course not."

The words were respectful, but the tone was not. For a long moment, no one spoke, and Legolas wondered with some confusion if Glorfindel had managed to render Elrond speechless.

A heavy hand descended on Legolas's shoulder and squeezed briefly in what might have been meant as reassurance. "Glorfindel means no disrespect to either your king or your prince. Would you mind waiting here while I address his...impertinence?"

"Of course not... erm, no, my lord," Legolas amended. Glorfindel was smirking again.

The bigger Elf slipped past Legolas before he could move away. Raven-black hair caressed his cheek and Elrond's barrel chest brushed against him, offering a brief warmth and strange comfort.

"Come inside, Glorfindel, and tell me what you want, other than to embarrass me and my guest."

The two lords moved into the next chamber, where their conversation was no less clear to Legolas for the distance. Taking a deep breath, he discreetly moved into the winter shadows at the far corner of the antechamber. Here, he could see the entire room without immediately being seen. Standing with his arms folded over his chest and guarding his hurt hand, he tried to master his inner agitation.

Elrond's words from the bath echoed as loudly in Legolas's mind now as they had when the elf-lord had originally uttered them: 'I can sense how much you hate the situation. Think of me only as a healer, and I will be as quick and impersonal as possible each time I touch you.'

[Think of him only as a healer, when I am bound to become his bonded lover? How, in the name of the Valar, am I supposed to do that when his hands touch me... as he will touch me? Our brief contact has been considerate and caring, but I do not desire him as a lover. How do I conceal this from him when the time comes?] [I have promised to accept him and I will. But I cannot feel what I do not feel, and the time of pretending will be over quickly. What will happen between us then, bound as we will be for all time?]

Legolas's shoulder still felt warm from where Elrond had touched him. Idly, he rubbed it. [Impersonal, he is not. He has been kind to me - so far, any road. I don't understand why, unless it is because I tried to save his horses.]

Glorfindel was speaking within. "So where is Thranduil's son?"

"How should I know?" Elrond sounded exasperated. "I thought he would arrive with Mithrandir."

"Perhaps you should ask the wizard."

"I've not seen the wizard this morning to ask him anything."

"It was an eventful night for all of us, Elrond. No doubt he's sleeping in - something I sometimes wish we Elves could do as Mithrandir seems to enjoy the decadence of it so much. And what of the fire sprite standing in your antechamber? Perhaps he knows, as I'd say he's from Mirkwood. Who is he?"

"I can only assume he's an advance scout sent with Mithrandir to assure all is in order," said Elrond. "I doubt he knows much of Thranduilion's actions. He's obviously not of Thranduil's court. Firstly, he's not dressed for it and secondly, none of them would risk their life for any among us, much less an animal. I can only assume that Legolas Thranduilion and his blissful entourage will arrive soon, with all of the pageantry and splendor demanded by a spoiled prince of Mirkwood."

Glorfindel chuckled. "You are looking forward to his arrival, aren't you? So what were you doing down in the baths with the scout?"

"Bathing!" Elrond spat. "You know me far too well to think I'd be doing anything else, except work long and hard to coax that one into joining me here so that I might tend his injured lungs and hand. Which I will do as soon as you leave."

[He doesn't know who I am,] Legolas thought with some elation. Breathing easier regardless the pain of his lungs, he dared to relax just a little. [I send you all my gratitude, Elbereth, for this is a respite I would never have dared hope for. He will find out soon enough, I expect. But for now... it is a bit of latitude I never expected.]

"You are always so grumpy in the morning," said Glorfindel.

"I am not grumpy. I am irritated. The prince of Mirkwood will more than likely arrive today and require my undivided attention, when I wish my sole focus to be Assassin and his fellows. How are they, by the way?"

"I was heading for the stable to find out when you arrived. Was scribbling a note saying you could find me there when you wanted an update."

"Very well. I shall tend our guest's injuries and join you there."

"As you wish. And I still say you're grumpy." Exiting the inner chamber, Glorfindel winked at Legolas as he moved past. "It's your turn."

With some reluctance, but no where near the level he had felt a few minutes before, Legolas joined Lord Elrond in his most private lair.

"Have a seat, please, while I prepare a few things."

Legolas settled at a round table where books and scrolls had been stacked and moved aside to clear a space. The chair was broad and comfortable, made as it had been for a larger frame - as had all of the furnishings within this room, Legolas noted. Even the bed in the next room looked larger than any Legolas had seen before.

[Mithrandir is probably not the only one enjoying his creature comforts,] thought Legolas.

Moving to a multi-drawered wooden cabinet, Elrond gathered a selection of bandages and bottles before settling opposite his patient, who was now looking around the chamber without bothering to hide his curiosity.

In one corner stood a suit of Second-Age armor, battle- scarred and much worn, while mounted on the wall behind was its companion - an Elven longsword that had seen much use in latter days.

"I've never seen armor of that sort before," he commented. "Mirkwood's own was unique, and my... king did not preserve any specimens of it."

"I'm not surprised. Our last battle at Mount Orodruin holds no happy memories for Thranduil. He lost many from Mirkwood, his father among them. Imladris and Lothlorian tried to offer comfort afterward; your kind would have none of it."

"You were there as well, were you not?"

Elrond nodded. "With Gil-Galad and many others that day. The Dark Lord was defeated though not entirely destroyed. A watchful peace ensued, the fruits of which we are still enjoying though some believe Sauron is gathering strength while his shadow creeps forth once more."

"Dol Goldur has reawakened," Legolas offered camly.

Elrond gave him a sharp look. "When issues regarding the horses are no longer pressing and we have more time, you must tell me what Mirkwood has learned of that. Imladris has not yet been touched by the Shadow, but some among us have foreseen it."

[He has the gift of foresight,] Legolas remembered and was suddenly reminded that he was in the presence of one of the most powerful elf-lords ever to walk Middle-Earth.

[Gil-Galad raised him, trained him three thousand years ago,] Legolas thought. [He's a master of lore and the architect, ruler and guardian of Imladris. He breeds magnificent horses and my father wants him to help guard Mirkwood. Well he could, and I'm nothing but a child to him. My meager skills are those of an infant next to his, so why would he ever desire me as a mate?]

[No wonder Father believes that I can be of use, but what use can I be to Elrond? There is much he could teach me, much I would learn if he would be willing to teach me, but I fail to see why he would wish my company.]

"Give me your hand."

Legolas didn't think to protest but offered it freely, only to find his entire hand was being immersed in a bowl of some clear, viscous liquid that smelled like a flower.

"What is this?"

"Oil of lavender. Leave you hand within until I take it out."

[I am willing to learn from him if he would allow it. I would be honored to be with him, were it not for...] Legolas shivered inwardly to remember how, exactly, he was to secure the alliance between Mirkwood and Imladris.

"Is it what you expected?" Elrond asked as he poured some potions into a crucible. Stirring it, he then poured it carefully out into a smaller bottle and searched for a stopper.

Legolas jerked his attention back to his host. "Pardon me?"

"Few are allowed to see these rooms. I've always wondered what is seen by those who do."

"It is an elegant sanctuary within Imladris's own," Legolas offered slowly, uncertain what the elf wanted to hear. "It speaks of your own ancient heritage, of the battles you've fought--"

"And lost--" inserted Elrond.

"And won," Legolas pressed. "After all, we sit within Imladris itself. A waterfall flows peacefully out there--" He nodded toward the open window. "It is reassuring in its music, telling that no matter the events in the lives of the people nearby, it will flow on as it has for hundreds of years. It is warm within these walls and the fire on your hearth is another welcome companion, no matter the snow falling outside. Rivendell itself is a battle won, is it not?"

"If so, it was won out of sheer desperation." Elrond's smile was grim. "When I served at Gil-Galad's side in endless battles and my dreams became filled with blood, I fled to this dell and begged Elbereth to grant me peace. She told me in another dream that such peace could not be granted, I had to build it. Imladris was the result of that dream, and it was a very long time before my king forgave me for leaving him."

"But the fact remains that he did forgive you. The two of you went on to defeat the Dark Lord and to forge the Watchful Peace."

"He died at Sauron's hand."

"As did my grandfather and many others, as you reminded me earlier." Legolas cocked his head thoughtfully as Elrond removed his hand from the oil of lavender. Much of the pain had gone.

"We have all lost loved ones to the Darkness," said Elrond, wrapping the injured hand carefully. "We may again."

"In the meantime, are not these rooms more peaceful than, say, a dungeon cell beneath King Thranduil's keep?" Legolas asked.

[They will become the site of my ruin shortly,] he reflected, calmly meeting Elrond's startled gaze. [Here, he will claim me, body and mind. Here we will bond and my freedom will be forfeit. But Mirkwood will be served, and my father will be pleased.]

Elrond tied off the bandage and sat back. "Have you seen those dungeons?"

"Far more closely than I would care to again." Experimentally, Legolas flexed his hand. "I would not have a problem firing a bow with this bandage."

"I would not advise you to try until the skin beneath has a chance to heal properly. You are an archer, then?"

"I have some skill with a bow. And my hand feels much better."

"It may feel better, but it is not healed. The oil has soothed the wound and begun its work, but it will be slow, fragile work for some days. You must leave the hand wrapped so that the oil does not evaporate. You may unwrap it at night if you wish, but more oil and a moisturizer must be added daily so that the skin heals properly. We must wrap it daily to protect it, and you must be careful to keep the bandages clean."

"Yes, Lord Elrond."

The elf-lord frowned. "That wound is very deep. So deep that I can do nothing to keep it from scarring permanently. I'm deeply sorry."

Shrugging, Legolas set about pulling back the hair that was now dry and getting into his eyes. "It doesn't matter."

[How appropriate that it would scar, given that I'm to belong to him.] "You've been very kind."

"Kind? That is not a word most would use to describe me. Tending your wounds is the least I can do. You were, after all, injured in my own stable's fire."

Finger-combing his hair, Legolas gathered it awkwardly together. Rising from the table, Elrond took a leather thong from an overflowing jarful sitting on a nearby bookshelf.

"Allow me to help." Going to stand behind the Elf, Elrond ignored Legolas's protests and pulled his hands away. The golden hair fell in disarray, only to be gathered up once more to be secured comfortably by the thong. "There is no shame in needing help."

Legolas grit his teeth. "So you said before, but it annoys me."

"It annoys each of us when it happens to us, but it won't last forever. Time and patience heal all wounds."

[Will it heal the treachery of my father?] Legolas wanted to ask, feeling a wrenching pain and a thrumming wrath deep within whenever he thought of how he had come to be in Imladris. [Will it heal my dreams and comfort either of us when you take me and learn just how unwilling Thranduil's son is?]

"Thank you," Legolas said aloud.

"Now, as to your cough." Leaning over, Elrond retrieved a long phial and handed it to him. "This tincture contains a mixture of herbs to encourage your lungs to expel the sickness created by the smoke. Drink half of it now with this."

He handed the Elf an apple from the bowl half-hidden by scrolls. "Drink the other half after noon-meal and I will make more for you tonight. The cough should clear by tomorrow night."

Nodding, Legolas drank as he'd been told, only to grimace and gasp. Never before had he tasted anything so vile. "It's..."

"Yes?"

He searched for words that would not offend. "Very bitter."

Elrond smiled. "You're very diplomatic. When I gave Glorfindel his last night, he said it tasted like balrog piss."

"He should know," Legolas rasped and glowered at the rest of the liquid in the phial.

Elrond laughed outright. "But you will notice that his voice is restored this morning. Yours will be by nightfall if all goes well. Don't forget to eat the apple, you need something in your stomach. And now, I must join Glorfindel at what remains of the stable to check on our friends. Do you still wish to accompany me?"

"Yes."

[You're not at all what I expected,] Legolas thought at Elrond's back as he followed him from the chamber. [Not after Mith's warning and my father's disrespect. Are you this nice to all of your guests, or only those from Mirkwood? And what will you do when you find out that I've deceived you - let you go on thinking that I'm a scout when I'm actually your consort? Will you think I've come to spy on you, to carry tales back to my father? Will you fly into a rage and cancel the alliance, send me straight back to Mirkwood in disgrace?]

[Probably,] Legolas decided. [This season of grace can't last. More than likely, my father's wrath will be visited upon me, and this disobedient son will see the dungeons of Mirkwood again all too soon.]


	5. Chapter 5

CHAPTER FIVE

The snow had grown deeper since the night before, and Elrond led his guest down pathways few had trod that morning. One path led to a closed gate behind the ruins of the burned stable - ruins that both Legolas and Elrond tried to avoid looking at, lest they see too much death among the blackened and still-smoking wood that once offered safe shelter to loyal friends within.

"You'll be doing much coughing today," Elrond offered after Legolas had surrendered to the paroxysmal fit threatening his every breath in the cold air.

"It's disgusting."

"It is necessary," Elrond admonished. "The black phlegm must be expelled, else greater illness will follow. Come, we'll go more slowly to accommodate your malady."

Wheezing on his way, Legolas had to pause twice more to accommodate his lungs. "I hate this."

"I know you do. Look, the new stable is being erected over there." The elf-lord pointed to distract the slighter elf at his side. "A few walls are already in place, and that is where we are headed. I am shamed to admit that Imladris had no plan in case of such a fire. A meeting will be held after the stable is completed to form such a plan - who will enter if there is another fire and get them safely out, where they will be taken afterward."

"That's good, albeit a bit late for those who died." Legolas was horrified to realize he'd let down his guard enough to voice his thoughts aloud. "I am sorry, my lord Elrond. I spoke in haste and tactlessly."

"But with great honesty, reflecting my own judgment of my own incompetence." That long arm snaked around Legolas's shoulders once more.

Legolas didn't know how to reply to that assessment, much less how to respond to the touch that seemed to creep out whenever Elrond thought reassurance or comfort was needed. Falling into a wheezing silence, Legolas ignored his confusion and concentrated on reaching the half-constructed stables without coughing his lungs out again on the way.

Elrond released him only when they had reached the construction site. Hailing Glorfindel, he went immediately to the temporary paddock housing the smallest of the fire's victims. The weanlings watched their approach with little of the usual bright curiosity of foals, their expressions reflecting exhaustion and confusion at the turmoil that hat turned their young lives upside down the night before.

"How are they?" Elrond asked, low and urgent. Legolas stood close at his side, no less eager for Glorfindel's update.

"Last spring's foals are lowest to the ground; they are mostly all right," Glorfindel revealed. "The biddable mares I saved are also mostly all right. As for the stallions and the geldings..." He grimaced. "Many are not so all right. I'm sorry, Elrond, but the smoke took those sections first so that their exposure was longer and the damage is greater."

Glorfindel turned his attention to Legolas. "None of us could know this and you could not have prevented it, young one, so don't even try to presume any guilt over those we're bound to lose over the next few days, hmm?"

"We, all of us, did our best," said Elrond sadly. Legolas could have sworn the elf-lord was leaning into him, was trying to offer the same sort of physical comfort as could be seen between two horse-friends.

[Surely that's my imagination. Perhaps he only needs the contact as Glorfindel shares the worst of the news?]

"Go on," Elrond said quietly.

"Some are coughing already, and the outlook is hopeless," Glorfindel continued with obvious reluctance. "We're sending them on over the next hour."

"What of Assassin?"

Glorfindel was silent for a long moment. "I think you need to see him for yourself."

Breaking away from the fence, he led the way to a corner of the new stable, where a stall had been hastily erected and a rough-plank roof offered some shelter from the wind and the snow. Joining Elrond and Glorfindel at the stable wall, Legolas looked inside to see Elrond's foundation sire standing and coughing with his head held low.

"Not you, too," Elrond murmured.

This time, it was Legolas who sought to offer some comfort by leaning into Elrond. The gesture went unnoticed as the elf-lord quickly unlatched the door and stepped inside the stall. Turning toward his owner, Assassin stretched out his neck and nuzzled Elrond's hand. Long fingers rubbed the velvet muzzle, combed through the long white mane and rubbed at the lop-sided ears where they hung lax in exhaustion.

The stallion closed his eyes, surrendering his brief pose of strength as his breathing only grew more labored. His panting efforts to breathe rocked his entire frame forward and back with the fight to draw air into closing lungs. When he coughed again, thick black snot dripped from his nostrils. He was far from the fierce, fighting creature Legolas had met the night before.

"He is proud, Elrond, and very ill. You know that this is only the beginning. I recommend...."

"You recommend that we remember him as he was and send him on with dignity before none is left to him," Elrond said, his expression tight and pained as he gave voice to the words Glorfindel could not bring himself to speak.

"Yes."

[We are not having this,] Legolas thought.

"Excuse me, Lord Glorfindel," he rasped. Pushing past the Elf, Legolas let himself into the stall. Coming up beside Elrond, he combed through Assassin's mane to find Elrond's fingers. Wrapping his own around them, Legolas pulled the elf-lord's hands free and turned him away from the stallion.

"Explain this to me," Legolas murmured, demanding that the elf-lord focus on him, rather than on Elrond's own despair. "Make me understand the damage, so that a way might be found to repair it."

He heard Glorfindel's deep sigh and felt rather than saw him move away from the stall. [You've given up and so yes, you need to leave. Leave the two of us together and let me center your lord by discussing the facts,] thought Legolas. [Let Elrond detach a little and think like a healer for a moment, rather than as Assassin's friend.]

Choking down his tears, Elrond struggled to gather his words and answer. "The fire-smoke was hot enough to burn Assassin's throat and airways, just as it did yours. He and some of the others were in the fire longer than were you, which has resulted in serious breathing problems."

"What problems?"

"Assassin is not burned, though others probably are. Glorfindel has gone to put them down. As for my stallion, he is in severe respiratory distress; there is already upper airway obstruction."

The elf-lord tried to turn back to his friend. Catching his arm, Legolas guided him back around.

"In simple words, Elrond, what does that mean?"

"Assassin is experiencing the same thing you are, but to a greater degree. His airways cannot work properly to sweep dust, debris, and excess mucus from his lungs. Consequently, it has accumulated in his respiratory tract. While you are expelling it, Assassin is not.

"Additionally, the natural lubricant that normally keeps the sides of his lungs from sticking together and collapsing has been compromised, which means his lungs may collapse. Already, it is difficult for him to breathe. He is choking and his lungs are probably filling with fluid."

Legolas closed his eyes briefly at the description of the horse's suffering, feeling it mirrored in his own burning lungs. The harsh bark of Assassin's cough struck him almost as a physical blow.

A heavy hand smoothed down Legolas's hair. From somewhere deep within, Elrond summoned a sad smile. "As Glorfindel said, the outlook is hopeless."

"Not for this one, it's not."

"It is not your fault you couldn't save them all, and Assassin was the last to come out."

Legolas narrowed his eyes. "Do you want to send him on?"

"No."

"Then don't give up on him yet," Legolas pleaded. "He waited for me, he wouldn't leave his stall without me. I survived because he carried me. He deserves to live."

"He cannot live if he cannot breathe!"

Legolas's lungs claimed him in a coughing fit, one that drove him to the far corner of the stall to spit a disgusting mess into the bedding. Bracing his head against the wall and wheezing slightly, he said with quiet obstinacy, "Then we shall have to ensure that Assassin and the others continue to breathe."

Coming up beside him, Elrond rubbed his back. "Your ribs must ache already."

"They do, but my breathing is improving, thanks to your skill as a healer. Assassin and I suffered the fire together, suffered the same injuries. If you can heal my lungs, why not his? Treat him as you have treated me. That--that balrog piss has already started working for me; it's worth trying with him, isn't it? Give him that chance."

Elrond stood silently for a moment, then lifted his head to meet Legolas's intense gaze. The despair was being slowly replaced with determination as he nodded. "We will give him his chance. We shall work together, you and I, to save Assassin and the others."

"Yes, together," Legolas rasped, pushing away from the wall. "We should move them somewhere warmer, out of the cold until the stable is finished. The cold air makes it much harder to breathe. Fire up as many braziers as the households of Imladris can spare and treat everyone with balrog piss."

Elrond laughed in spite of himself. "The Hall of Fire might accommodate such an invasion."

Legolas looked up in surprised. "You would do that? You would take them indoors?"

"There will be a fuss from the Elves serving my household, but yes, it's the best place for them. As you say, they need warmth and shelter to rest. I shall command it, and all of Imladris will obey," Elrond concluded, only half-joking.

Legolas nodded and fought off another coughing fit as he followed Elrond from the stall. The orders were given and Legolas had the pleasure of seeing Glorfindel grin and nod at him.

[Well done,] that nod seemed to say, regardless many of the Elves scurrying to help looked as if they thought their master had gone mad.

"Into the Hall of Fire with the lot of them," Glorfindel agreed. "We'll get a fire blazing on the hearth and round up the necessary braziers and cauldrons. I'll see to boiling water for steam while you prepare a vast amount of that evil herbal concoction."

Elrond looked down at Legolas. "Will you help Glorfindel move the horses while I begin the brew to ease their breathing?"

"Of course."

Elrond left the makeshift stable while Legolas moved toward Assassin's stall. Without thinking, he left the door open and stepped within to wind his fingers in the stallion's mane.

"Will you walk with me to a place of warmth and healing? One that smells like your master, where he will always be near?"

The stallion lifted his head from where it hung near the straw, and his eyes lost some of the glassy look they'd had only moments before as he turned to touch Legolas's arm with his black-streaked, mucus-coated muzzle. The elf paused to wipe some of it away with his fingers, scraping it off into the bedding.

"We will heal this," he murmured reassuringly to the horse. "Your master knows what to do. He'll make it better. Be strong."

"Here now, what do you think you're doing?" asked one of the grooms, darting into the stall after Legolas. "No one but Elrond can handle him without a fight. Sick or no, it'll take four of us just to battle him out of here."

The stallion's ears flattened. Legolas let go the mane a moment before Assassin lunged and snapped his teeth at the groom, who leaped backward out of the stall. A colorful stream of Elvish curses blued the air as the groom landed on his butt. Backing up a step, Assassin leaned against Legolas and blinked with deceptive passivism.

"He annoyed me, too," Legolas said softly. Gathering another handful of mane, he asked, "Walk with me?"

Assassin not only found the strength to walk, he led the way from the stall.

"You might want to get out of the way," Legolas said mildly to the groom who was now kneeling in the dirt and rubbing his butt. Scrambling to his feet, the elf all but leaped around the makeshift stall to relative safety.

Pushing against Assassin's shoulder, Legolas guided him slowly across the field, through the open gate with Glorfindel standing watchfully aside, and down the same path Elrond and he had traveled earlier that morning.

"Where is the Hall of Fire, exactly?" Legolas called over his shoulder.

"Turn right and take the walled path back to the main courtyard," Glorfindel called from behind. "We'll take them all in through the front door, down the central corridor and into the hall proper."

So it was that Legolas Thranduilion, Prince of Mirkwood, led Elrond's foundation stallion through the front door of the Last Homely House just as Mithrandir was descending its interior stairway in search of his late-morning meal. Stopping dead on the stairs, the wizard gawked. Stallion hooves rang on the entry stones.

Legolas smiled but did not stop. "Good morning, Mith. Did you sleep well?"

"I... er...." It took a moment, but the gray wizard finally managed to recover himself enough to gather his robes, descend the steps, and join Legolas as he and Assassin gained the long corridor. "What, by all of Valinor, are you doing?"

"We're treating the injured in the Hall of Fire."

Assassin spared this new arrival a brief glance, then cleared his nostrils with a powerful snort, spraying the shining floor of the halls with black mucus before turning to wipe his nose on Legolas's tunic.

"Surely not. Does Lord Elrond know you're mucking up his corridors?"

"I know all about it." Elrond pushed back the huge ash doors leading into the Hall of Fire. "Tell Erestor we need more water," he ordered the obviously disgruntled house-elf hovering behind him.

"Good morning, by the way," he addressed Mithrandir. "It's good to see you up and about." To Legolas he said, "Take Assassin over there, by the fireplace where the kettles are boiling. We are heating the balrog piss--" "WHAT?" Mithrandir all but roared.

"It's a long story, I'll tell you later," inserted Legolas. Already, he could smell the herbal concoction, feel its oils being carried on the air and beginning to work on his lungs.

"It's heating," Elrond resumed and ignored the wizard, "and the kitchen is preparing bran mash for all those who are well enough to eat. Others are bringing hay and water buckets, and we're fashioning plank screens to make temporary stalls, but in the meantime I believe we can use the banquet tables, and... you and Glorfindel must tell me if I've forgotten anything."

"We will," inserted Glorfindel.

"I'll take him from here," Elrond said, moving in behind Legolas and smoothing a hand down Assassin's neck. Both horse and elf clearly drew comfort from the touch, and they moved slowly, silently toward the corner closest the hearth and its healing contents.

Mithrandir sidled up beside Legolas as Elrond began examining his horse in earnest. Grooms waited nearby with their charges as more horses were lead into the hall.

"So the two of you have not only met formally, but are working together." The wizard beamed. "That is well."

"I suppose you're right." Legolas pulled at the end of a heavy table. "Help me with this, please? We don't want any mishaps with Assassin."

"Of course, though I doubt he feels well enough to rear and attack anyone."

Legolas spared him a quick grin. "I wouldn't make that sort of assumption."

Glorfindel grabbed the end of another table. "Despite our best efforts, you know we'll lose some."

"We have to try."

"Even if Assassin recovers, it probably won't be completely," the older elf warned as Mithrandir stood by. "Still, that stallion would probably be contented to sire many foals."

"That's enough, isn't it? Just having him live and be comfortable?"

"Elrond would be contented with just having Assassin in Middle-earth, to pamper him all of his days."

"I'm glad you think so," Legolas murmured. He started to help Glorfindel with the table, only to hesitate. "Pardon me for a moment, please? Elrond's herbs do their work too well."

Moving to a brazier, he took the time to cough and spit under Glorfindel's watchful eye.

"Why aren't you doing this as well?" he demanded of the elf-lord once he could draw breath without coughing again.

It was Glorfindel's turn to grin. "I got a head start on you and did it all night long in the privacy of my own quarters."

Other horses were being led into the hall now. Mithrandir got well out of the way while both elves went to help settle and tend them.

"Some look just fine, don't they?" Glorfindel commented. "No wheezing, no coughing. But we can't assume that no damage has been done. It's insidious enough to show up later, so we'll treat them anyway."

"Prepare for the worst and hope for the best," Legolas rasped before breaking away to cough again.

"There's a good warriors' attitude," Glorfindel muttered as he dragged another table across the floor.

Elrond was busying himself with treating other horses, so barring any specific orders Legolas went wherever he saw he was needed. The hours fled by as all settled into a rhythm: keep everyone warm, keep the air moist, use the ready supply of herbs and the braziers, refill the boiling cauldrons and kettles of water, take the patients for walks, and urge the house-elfs to continue cleaning up after them. A lot. Legolas soon approached Erestor with a request that minders be posted with buckets and shovels.

"Pick up the manure once the horse moves away. If you see him start to spread, head in with your bucket," he told one timid elf, who seemed more than a little reluctant to do her job.

"Head in?where?"

"Under his belly," Legolas snapped, gesturing vaguely to the horse's sheath.

"I'm not a stable-groom," she protested. "I'm a house-elf! I've no idea how horses?do things.

"He's male, and he pees like any other male. The source should be no great mystery to you."

The newly recruited groom drew herself up at the obvious insult, then shoved the bucket at Legolas.

"You know so much about it, *you* catch it. You're clearly accustomed to handling such muck."

"It's in the house. It's yours," Legolas pointed out, ignoring the bucket altogether. "You can either catch it in a bucket or mop it up after. I really don't care which, so long as the area is kept clean around the horses."

"But horses in the Hall of Fire - horses dumping in the Hall of Fire - it's a disgrace!"

"It's necessary," said Legolas, pointing out a small pile. "You need to attend to that."

The elf did so, chasing the manure awkwardly around the floor with her shovel before capturing it. She then transferred it to a basket, displeasure clear through her pursed lips and wrinkled nose. "How long are they staying?"

"Until the stable is finished."

"Ugh! We'll never be able to eat here again! And where are we supposed to sing? And dance?"

Legolas shrugged. "There's always the rest of Imladris. Urge your friends to work faster on the stable."

"But it's mid-winter, and... and... you have no compassion!" She looked near tears as Legolas pointed out another horse lifting its tail not far from her elbow.

"I do, but it's all for the horses."

"You're... you're disgusting! Who are you, anyway, that you can just walk in here and tell us what to do?" Glowering, she all but threatened him with her shovel.

"He is someone who likes horses," said a new voice, the voice of the Master of Imladris. "There's a stallion spreading now -- off with you."

"Yes, m'lord." The embarrassed elf struggled to control both bucket and shovel as she scampered off to do her master's bidding.

Legolas's eartips were glowing. Again. "I hope I didn't offend--"

"Not at all. The inside elves have always thought their jobs more important than those who serve outside. Horses invading Imladris... it's not been done before. And by the way, I don't think you know what a miracle it is that Assassin carried you from the stable, and that he allowed you to lead him here today."

"Actually, *he* led *me*. Both times."

Elrond nodded understanding. "You would do well to remember his name and its meaning, then. Assassin has never carried anyone in the past but me, nor has he willingly allowed others to lay hands on him, much less walk with him."

"He seems more than merely a horse somehow," Legolas said thoughtfully. "Perhaps he recognized the necessity."

"Necessity does not move Assassin. He will fight to his own detriment if he feels insulted or misused. Affection moves him. Affection he clearly feels for you."

Erestor interrupted them in that moment, relieving Legolas of any need to respond. Indeed, he didn't think he could have responded if he'd had to.

"As ordered, m'lord, I have stayed out of your sight until mid-day meal, which banquet has been arranged for your dining pleasure inside of the library."

"The library?" Elrond looked as incredulous as he sounded. "You've invaded my books with food?"

An unrepentant Erestor gazed back at his master. "You have taken over not only the Hall of Fire, but the great hall with horses. Where else are we to serve you and those who toil to save the animals of which you are so fond?"

"Set up tables in the corridors!" Elrond ordered. "I don't want anything edible near the books."

"Yes, m'lord. Immediately with the next meal, m'lord. I am quite certain they will not mind dining in the hallways where the coughing horses are led about. But plates have already been set out as well as wooden goblets that might be carried for instant refreshment wherever your helpers go. Perhaps everyone would like to partake of the banquet now and save us the trouble of moving everything twice? We have worked hard gather a few tables to accommodate your banquet, but were able to find none for sitting. There seems a great shortage of tables at present." Gazing around the Hall of Fire, the Elf managed to register his disapproval without another word.

Elrond sighed his defeat. "As you will, Erestor. Please let everyone within the halls know that they may take their mid-day meal in the library at their leisure."

"Yes, m'lord, but won't you serve yourself in peace first?"

"Come, Elrond," Mithrandir admonished, sidling up on the elf-lord's elbow. "You know that this fellow will not give it up until our small group has eaten. In truth, you've all been laboring for hours. A small break with a meal seems in order to me."

"As you will," Elrond grumbled again. But he still led the way out of the Hall of Fire and into his beloved, if invaded, library.

"It's revenge, you know?" he said companionably to Legolas, who followed in Mithrandir's wake with Glorfindel. "I have invaded Erestors halls, so he has invaded my beloved books."

"But just as his precious hall may be washed down and restored to its original splendor once we are finished," said Glorfindel, "Erestor will take great care to preserve the sanctity of the mausoleum--"

"The what?"

"Ah, pardon me... the museum Lord Elrond has accumulated over the years."

"Mausoleum? Is that what you think of my preservation efforts? Have you no respect for the history or lore of Middle-earth, even considering the great part you have played in it?"

"I *died*, Elrond. I fail to see how getting a balrog stuck in my golden tresses and being dragged to my doom constitutes any great historical event in your tidy little tomes."

Mithrandir winked at Legolas. "There they go again. You and I shall gather our plates and sneak off to a quiet alcove to enjoy our repast. Those two, in the meantime, will continue one of their incessant debates."

"What do you think of Lord Elrond's library?" Legolas couldn't resist asking.

"Hmm? What? Oh, it comes in very handy when wishes to investigate the really important things - like the history of pipeweed since the beginning of the Shire."

Together they headed for the food laid out beneath the elegant flying buttressed ceiling.


	6. Chapter 6

CHAPTER SIX

"Did you see Arwen?" Elrond asked as soon as they'd finished eating, in between the dessert and the wine.

"I met with your daughter this morning," Mithrandir replied. "She has agreed to go to Lothlorian with me and will leave as soon as she is ready. Her brothers will join us on the road, so she will be well-protected."

"Good. My daughter has been in seclusion since her mother's death," Elrond offered explanation to Legolas.

"I see," said Legolas. [In seclusion, probably so she won't have to watch her father court his new consort.]

A groom came to the library door at that moment, wanting to consult Lord Elrond and Glorfindel on some detail or other in the horses' care.

"We should get back to the horses," said Legolas, starting to get up from the large and far-too-comfortable chair he'd homesteaded at the beginning of the meal.

"No, let me answer this one's question and then we'll enjoy the peace a few minutes more," said Elrond, standing and patting Legolas's knee. "Join me, please, Glorfindel?"

The elf-lord grumbled a bit, but did as he was bid.

"Are you all right with my leaving you here?" Mithrandir asked the moment the two were out of earshot.

"Nothing will change whether you're here or not," Legolas answered quietly. "I remember your warnings and am behaving accordingly."

The wizard nodded. "You're doing well, he likes you. I have sent word of our safe arrival to your father, and trust that Elrond will send some sort of message himself. What is your first impression?"

"His horses like him, so he's a man of honor at least where they're concerned."

Mithrandir gave a low, delighted laugh. "I suspect that Elrond would say the same of you at this point. Carry on as you have, and I daresay your joining will be less painful than you think."

"I don't want it to be less painful," hissed Legolas as the two elf-lords broke off their discussion and headed back across the library. "I want its necessity to go away."

There wasn't time for Mithrandir to reply, so the wizard sagely remained silent. Slouching in irritation, Legolas stared at the snowflakes falling beyond the library balcony.

[My hand's starting to hurt again,] he realized. [Must have used it too much this morning.] The bandage was soiled as well, he noted. He made a brief effort to scrape at some of the worst of the stains, then abandoned it.

"Just a few minutes more," Glorfindel sighed, sinking back down into his chair and twirling a wine goblet between his fingers. "Then we'll return to battle."

"And so, Mithrandir," said Elrond, pouring himself another glass of wine. Legolas shook his head in a second refusal as the carafe was offered to him. "What news have we from Mirkwood?"

"News? What news are you expecting?"

"You were supposed to bring someone to me yesterday, were you not? Or at least news of him. Is Legolas, Prince of Mirkwood, on his way to Imladris?"

Mithrandir looked back at his host in obvious confusion. "He is not. I thought--"

"He is not? I thought he was to arrive forthwith. Has Thranduil decided not to follow through with the agreement?"

The wizard held up a hand to stay the cross words, and shook his head. "I thought you knew...."

"Knew what?"

"Legolas arrived with me last night. Ah, Elbereth, was it only last night? Seems much longer than that. Any road--"

"Then where is he?" Elrond snapped. "I've not heard word of his arrival."

"Legolas is sitting right there next to you." Gesturing shortly, the wizard indicated the blonde Elf sprawled in the chair next to Elrond's own.

Glorfindel abandoned his wine and sat up. Legolas closed his eyes, only to open them again and meet Elrond's astonished gaze head on. [If I'm to meet my doom here in the library of Imladris, I want to see it coming for me. At least there's a fair collection of weaponry about; if he attacks me, am I not entitled to at least attempt to defend myself?]

"You are... certain?" Elrond pursued.

"I've known him since before he was born, of course I'm certain. Legolas, why didn't you introduce yourself?" Not bothering to move or shift position since no courtly bow or other formal gesture could save him now, Legolas offered a weak smile, waggled the fingers of his bandaged hand, and murmured, "It is good to finally meet you, my lord Elrond."

Elrond said nothing for a long moment. He merely stared. "But you... You're not what I envisioned or expected at all."

"I'm sorry to disappoint you."

"You're not a thing like your father!"

Legolas offered a wry smile. "Thank you for the compliment."

"You...thank me for what?"

"Come, Glorfindel," said Mithrandir, rising and stretching his back. "These two need to be alone."

"But I've not finished my wine."

"Yes, you have."

"I want to stay and hear this out."

"No, you don't. It's time for private things between these two and so come along. We'll go see some Elves about some horses."

Legolas didn't think Elrond was even aware of their being left alone. Shifting in his seat as his back was beginning to ache, Legolas sat up and faced his foe directly.

"I said thank you for the compliment because I'm glad to be nothing like my father," he explained. When Elrond didn't respond, but merely kept staring as if in trance, Legolas tried again. "Mithrandir was grinning when he left us. Is that a good sign?"

"I'm...never sure."

"I didn't mean to deceive you. It's just that the horses needed our full attention and you didn't need the distraction any more than they did."

"That's certainly true." The trance seemed to break. Gray eyes raked Legolas from top to toe, much as they had in the bath, but with a gaze even more compelling than it had been then. "You are a surprise, Legolas Thranduilion, but I think you know that."

"I know that you were probably expecting someone like my brother, who is very much like my father. Am I such a disappointment, then?"

Elrond laughed outright at that. "You are far from being a disappointment, Legolas. On the contrary, you are a pleasant surprise. My horses like you. Assassin likes you, which makes you a wondrous miracle come from Mirkwood. I cannot think why I did not ask your name."

"You assumed I was an advance scout, I believe. No name necessary."

"You heard the conversation between Glorfindel and me this morning, then?"

With some reluctance, Legolas nodded. "I didn't intend to listen at the door. Your antechamber is very small, and sound travels very well."

"A fact which Erestor has never seen fit to tell me. Thank you for the warning, Legolas. I shall make him wait in the outside corridor, or down here on the main floor from now on." The smile Elrond offered seemed genuinely warm. "I wish you had at least confided your name to me."

"Had I done so, everything would have changed. Everything will change now, when my presence is announced to your people. Whether I am welcomed by them or not, I will prove a distraction to them. The horses won't have their undivided attention, and they must. But it's not my place to...." He let the sentence trail off, not even certain of what he had wanted to say.

"It's not your place to keep your arrival a secret from my people," Elrond finished for him. "How can you care so deeply for animals that are not your own?"

"If you are kind to a horse, if you respect its needs and know how to enter into its world, that horse will offer you their loyalty and devotion without reservation. It's not Assassin's fault he's been hurt, and it's not his fault I've arrived and might prove the distraction that defeats him in the end." Legolas shook his head. "I don't want that to happen. He saved me, so I suppose I'd like to save him."

"There's more to it than that, I think," Elrond said softly. "I've raised two sons, Legolas, and have counseled many sons of other Elves. I have some instinct where young anxieties are concerned, and while you work comfortably with me around the horses, much tension arises in you the moment we are alone. I do not understand why this should be so."

"I could explain but there isn't time, Lord Elrond. I am here to become your consort, to finalize the alliance between Imladris and Mirkwood, but the horses need us. Your people can wait to meet their... prince." He nearly spat the word. "I can wait to meet them, but Assassin and the others cannot wait."

"And you would rather not be known to them just yet."

"No, my Lord Elrond."

"Then we shall call you Lasgalen until such time as your identity can be revealed, until I and all of Imladris can welcome you properly. How is your hand feeling?"

Legolas blinked at the sudden change of subject. "It... aches a bit."

"Then let us divert to my chambers and apply more oils, rewrap it in something a bit cleaner and protect it well before you return to your labors. And please don't use the new bandage to wipe noses."

Moving toward the stairs, Elrond turned back and very nearly stepped on Legolas's toes as he followed obediently him. "I want you to know, I looked forward to your arrival and am glad you are here, Legolas. I only wish the night had been less chaotic when you arrived. That does not mean I am unhappy you were there to save my friends."

"Thank you, my lord."

['Thank you, my lord.'] Elrond echoed Legolas's words after they had returned to the Hall of Fire. Legolas stayed at his side and, true to his word Elrond began calling him Lasgalen. Their work with the horses continued as before, its rhythm was uninterrupted except for one thing.

['Thank you, my lord.' A proper, formal response when before I distinctly remember him calling me Elrond. Now, he is tense. Formal. Stilted in my presence, and I have no further answers than before as to the reason why.]

[Legolas sought this alliance along with his father, did he not? If so, then why has he withdrawn into himself? Where is the ferocity he showed in fighting to give Assassin his chance at life? Where is the eagerness one might expect from a new consort?]

[I tend his injured hand... he suffers my touch but does not welcome it. I lean against him, he allows it and sometimes, yes, he leans back, but will not initiate it. He submits to me, but that is only on the surface or when he forgets and is focused elsewhere.]

The afternoon wore on, with Elrond setting aside his concerns as he could to focus on the tasks at hand. Horses were tended in a seamless rhythm of steam, walking, oils and comforting words and rubs amid a chorus of deep, bone- rattling coughs. From time to time, he and Legolas would recheck a horse, lock gazes, and one or the other of them would smile slightly. Sometimes they shook their heads in silent agreement and then Legolas would stand quietly with the suffering animal while Elrond said his good-byes. Once the Lord of Imladris had turned away, Legolas led the horse quietly from his presence, out into the hallway and on to Glorfindel.

It was Glorfindel who took the dying for their last walk. By sunset, a dirty path was worn into the snow, out behind the northwest pasture where the trees blocked the view of the final good-bye.

There were considerably fewer horses inside of the Homely House at the end of the day than there had been at the beginning. Assassin stood with them and while he was not yet out of danger, neither was he any worse. Elrond thought Legolas took courage from that fact, but could not be sure. Where Legolas was concerned, Elrond was certain of nothing, save the determination that seemed to radiate from him.

[Nothing,] thought Elrond, watching Legolas start the trek to hand over a sweet little mare to Glorfindel, but not until he'd whispered his own good-bye into the velvet ear.

Her eyes were wide with her panicked struggle to draw air into failing lungs, her chin thrust forward and nostrils flaring widely as she panted hard enough to rock her body forward and back as she fought. She was suffering and frightened, and there was only one thing left to be done for her. She was a sweet mare, a good mother, and a loyal and courageous mount in her day. She would be deeply missed by all who knew her, and evidently by those who had only just met her as well.

[How quickly Legolas comes to care for those who are helpless in our hands,] thought Elrond, [even as his father would take advantage of those helpless in his own hands. Helpless....]

Elrond watched as the mare was guided out of the hall and toward the main doors. Her steps were slow and tremulous, and Legolas steadied her with comforting hands as he kept up a litany of promises - promises of peace and comfort and the ending of her pain.

The high whinny of the mare's last foal - only lately weaned - followed her in a plaintive call. Her head lifted in recognition, but she had no strength to answer with anything but a silent farewell that barely caused her nostrils to flutter before another cough nearly took her off of her feet. Quick hands and an Elven body against her side steadied her, and then they moved forward once more.

The misery in the young elf's expression showed clearly as they moved past Elrond for that long, sad walk, and the foal called for his mother once more.

[There are so many in pain today, so many innocent ones suffering,] Elrond noted bitterly. Narrowing his gaze, the elf-lord turned away and returned to the Hall of Fire to tend more of his friends and to ponder the strange young Elf who had come none too eagerly to Imladris to be at his side.

Night fell, and Glorfindel offered to take first watch. Elrond let him, washing his hands for the last time and beckoning Legolas to his side. The Elf came, but not willingly. Fatigue was echoed in every bit of his lithe body. His blue eyes were dull and full of death-shadows - something Elrond recognized from his own time in battle. Sliding a hand slowly across the muscled shoulders, Elrond felt Legolas tense. He let his hand fall away.

"Why don't you bathe and then join me for a quiet supper alone in my chambers." It was not a request, and Elrond didn't mean for it to be. It was an expectation, one he knew would be fulfilled.

"Yes, Lord Elrond." The answer was as agreeable as always, but Legolas's shoulders were tense.

Nodding, Elrond left Legolas and went to confer with Glorfindel one last time on the night's treatment for the horses. The supplies were plenty and all was in order, but Elrond used one final check as an excuse to let Legolas slip away, unnoticed, with his head held high as any proud stallion's.

[Things are definitely not as Thranduil presented them to me,] Elrond growled inwardly. [Tonight, I will find out why.]


	7. Chapter 7

CHAPTER SEVEN

The feeling of dread in the pit of Legolas's stomach didn't lessen after a two-hour soak in the bathing pool - how could it, when he knew that after supper Elrond would doubtless call upon him to honor the agreement King Thranduil had forged? Tonight, Elrond would want to begin exploring the relationship between them, would expect his new consort to display his eagerness to mate with the Lord of Imladris. No sick horses or related duties would stand between them, they would be alone in Elrond's chambers this night. All night. The invasive touching would begin, and Legolas hoped he could endure it.

If anything, his anxiety grew tenfold when, just as he was about to get out of the water, Erestor strode into the chamber, gathered Legolas's pile of dirty clothes, and announced, "I'll see that these are cleaned and returned to you, Lord Lasgalen."

In a swirl of robes, Elrond's majordomo was gone and Legolas had no chance to object unless he wanted to leap from the water and run naked up the stairs to catch the elf. [Elrond himself probably sent him,] Legolas reflected, [to locate his wayward will-be lover.] Irritation followed hard on the thought. [Why not come himself, if that's the case?]

[Because Elrond probably told Erestor who you really are and trusts him to be discreet?] offered a voice inside his head. [Because the Lord of Imladris is eager for your company, but does not wish to appear so, as your identity is not common knowledge, and Elrond wishes to prevent the entire household from seeing him check up on a common wood-Elf from Mirkwood?]

Legolas snarled silently at the voice within and its logical motivations. [He probably just doesn't want any of his guests running around in dirty leggings. He's already criticized the way I keep my bandages.]

Erestor addressed someone outside the chamber who answered in the high, light voice of a female elf. And then the maidservant was on her way in, ignorantly intent upon destroying Legolas's already shattered sanctuary. He sighed inwardly to see that this was the same elf he'd forced to chase horse droppings only that afternoon. A second encounter, with Legolas naked and vulnerable in the water, was not something he welcomed.

Descending on the bathchamber with much more eagerness than she'd desplayed around the equine muck, the elf carried an armload of towels that obstructed her vision. Walking around the edge of the pool, she was oblivious not only to Legolas, but to the pile of clean clothes he had placed within easy reach at the edge of the pool. Inevitably, her small foot kicked them aside just as Legolas lunged across the pool to save them.

[So much for a warrior's reflexes,] Legolas thought in irritation as water sloshed over the maidservant's feet. His bandaged fingers closed uselessly around his moss-green tunic as it followed his leggings into the water.

"Amin hiraetha -- I'm so sorry!" the maidservant exclaimed, leaping backward and nearly dropping the armful of towels on his head. Peering over them, she widened her eyes to recognize her victim. "You!"

"Me."

"I should have known!" she spat. "Most people put their clothes on the shelf rather just heaping them on the floor." Whirling, she shoved the towels onto the ledge encircling the pool.

"Most people look where they're going," he rejoined, slapping his dripping clothing onto the stone edge.

"I didn't wet your things on purpose!"

"I didn't say you did."

She stared resentfully at the sodden pile. "I suppose you'll want me to dry your things in the kitchen."

"The tunic is leather, it belongs nowhere near a fire."

"Fine! Then you can please yourself and dry them yourself." She glowered in open hostility. "I didn't know you were in here. Erestor didn't mention--"

"It doesn't matter." Her tone was starting to make his head hurt. "If you'll just hand me a towel, I'll take care of my own things."

Snatching up a towel, she shoved it at him, only to nearly fall into the water.

"Careful," Legolas murmured, reflexively laying his his wet-bandaged hand against her thigh to steady her, even as he took the towel with his good hand.

She skidded back like a cat burned on a hot griddle-iron. "Your hand is clammy!"

"The bandages are wet. Again," he commented with no little weariness. "At least Lord Elrond cannot say that I did not keep them clean. Still, he will not be pleased."

"Blame me." She wiped down her leg.

"Blame you for what, Aniviel?" a low, smooth voice intruded. "What have you done to Lord Lasgalen?"

"Just Lasgalen will do."

The maidservant blushed and stammered. "I... he... He didn't put his clothes up safely where he should have, and they've gone into the water."

"Where you accidentally kicked them, I presume?" Erestor leveled a knowing look at the elf. "Please return to the kitchen and deliver the supper tray Lord Elrond has requested be delivered to his chambers. Try not to trip on the way."

"As you will, Erestor" Ducking her head, Aniviel all but slunk out of the bathchamber. Legolas watched her go with no little relief.

"I apologize for her clumsiness, my lord," Erestor continued as Legolas carefully wrapped the towel around himself and headed for the steps leading out of the water. "I shall visit your chamber and retrieve something else for you to wear."

Legolas noted that Erestor watched him emerge from the bath with a glance that wasn't predatory so much as speculative. This was, after all, the Elf that Elrond had been spending a great deal of time with lately, regardless Legolas, Prince of Mirkwood was due any moment to arrive and take his rightful place at Elrond's side. Surely Legolas's trusted scout would no longer be needed when that occurred, either by his master or the Lord of Imladris? Perhaps then Lasgalen of Mirkwood would entertain the possibility of spending a little time with Erestor?

The majordomo's thoughts weren't difficult to read. Legolas had seen the look in other eyes - Elrond's eyes -only a few hours before. He couldn't recall ever having seen such a look in Mirkwood. [Perhaps they were there, but I was as oblivious to them as Aniviel is to her clumsiness.]

Legolas gained the stone terrace surrounding the pool only to discover Erestor was standing so close to him, the elf's breath chilled Legolas's chest. The majordomo's gaze was openly assessing now, and Legolas reached around him smoothly to exchange his very wet towel for a dry one.

"That was my last set of clean things," he said, securing his towel, "and Lord Elrond expects me to join him shortly. Is it possible for me to obtain other clothing?"

Erestor frowned. "Did you not come from Mirkwood, an advance representative for your prince?"

Legolas shrugged. "Of a sort, yes."

"Surely you brought more with you."

"Mithrandir and I left in a bit of a hurry, so little was packed. My first set of clothing was fire-soiled, and you took the second for cleaning a few minutes ago. The third has been drowned."

Erestor offered a bow - an excessive gesture of respect for a mere wood-Elf, but the slender, austere servant made it respectful rather than mocking. "It is unfortunate that Imladris should have so evil an impact upon your wardrobe. Additional garments shall be made immediately from a pattern employing those currently within my possession. In the meantime...." The speculative look was back, but Erestor seemed a bit more focused on service rather than passion this time.

"I would say you about the same height and build as Elrond's sons," Erestor mused. "Elrohir wouldn't mind loaning you a robe or two, especially as he and his brother are off patroling the borders at the moment. I shall return momentarily, my lord."

"Diola lle," Legolas murmured.

"You are most welcome." Scooping up the latest set of ruined clothes, Erestor offered another bow and then was gone.

"Lord Elrond," Legolas called out softly. Pulling at the robe puddling around his bare feet, he hovered uneasily in the shadows outside the Elf-lord's bedchamber. Full dark had fallen since he'd been in the baths. He wished he could hide in that darkness, climb the highest tree and stay there until morning when equine duties would call again and their distractions could cloak him further. Several things made such an escape impossible, not the least of which were the voluminous robes he'd been loaned that were so ill-suited to climbing trees.

"Lasgalen," a deep voice acknowledged from within, its owner unseen.

Legolas knew how Elrond would appear: his robes were never ill-fitting, they wouldn't have dared. They always hung beautifully from the Elven lord's broad shoulders, concealed a barrel chest, and were the perfect backdrop for the long, raven-black hair that Legolas had already learned glowed blindingly in sunlight or firelight. Elrond was every inch a noble Elf-lord, no matter Mirkwood's king thought him a half-bred upstart who'd claimed a power and authority upon Gil-Galad's death to which he had no right.

"I've been waiting for you," the warm baritone continued from the shadows. It had commanded armies; tonight, it commanded Legolas. "Please join me, and welcome."

Taking no comfort from his host's welcoming words, Legolas slipped cautiously into the sanctorium and tried to hug the wall. Shadows and light moved on the interior walls - a red-gold mixture of firelight and candlelight offering warmth and security in the dead of winter. He had known such things as a child wrapped safe in his mother's embrace, but she had broken her neck and died during a riding accident when he'd scarce reached his fourteenth birthday. Even after her death, fire had seemed a benevolent element, warming the stones of his underground chamber and accompanying his father's festivities in the Great Hall of Mirkwood. No more, though. Fire had destroyed too many beautiful new friends this day.

[A different sort of flame may well be waiting to destroy me as well,] Legolas thought, rubbing his fingers against the wet bandage guarding the wounded palm of his hand. [I've already been branded. Tonight, I fear being burned in a different way. Still, I agreed to be here, did I not?]

Gathering what little dignity was possible when one was wrapped in ill-fitting robes and dreading a long night that had only just begun, Legolas squared his shoulders, met Lord Elrond's calm gaze, and announced, "This has not been a good day, my lord. But the horses are resting comfortably now."

An elegant black eyebrow arched as Elrond studied the wet-haired, obviously rumpled Elf before him. "You checked on our patients before coming here?"

"I did."

"Is all in order?"

"So far, yes. I would like to check on Assassin and the others again later."

"As would I." Pouring two goblets of mead, Elrond offered one to his guest, who was slowly approaching the table and eyeing his host warily as if either might leap up and attack him. "How is it that you came to traverse Imladris's halls in robes that I believe belong to one of my sons?"

"Aniviel accidentally caused my last clean set of clothing to be tossed into the water," Legolas explained, taking the mead only to set it aside without sampling the contents. "Erestor was kind enough to cover my unwilling nakedness with this." He pulled at the rich material.

"Aniviel..." Elrond offered a wry smile. "That explains much. You two seem fated to irritate each other."

"Perhaps. I was also unable to prevent this from being soaked." He gestured with his injured hand.

"It is past time the bandages were changed again, but they can wait a bit longer." Robes rustling, Elrond seated himself at the table, shoved aside a pile of books and pulled closer a wooden tray stacked with covered plates. "The day has been long and exhausting for us both, and I've waited supper for you. Let us eat before we do anything else."

"You needn't have waited." Even as he thought to deny being hungry, Legolas's stomach growled. Only then was he made aware of the inticing scents coming from the plates. It seemed his body's needs were prepared to overwhelm his anxieties.

"How did you know I would arrive before all became too cold to eat?" Legolas asked, seating himself across from the Elf-lord.

"I asked Erestor to send up food as soon as you emerged from the baths." Elrond passed a plate to Legolas.

[So he was checking up on me,] Legolas thought, somewhat amused even as he was still irritated at the thought. "Erestor came and carried away the old things I was wearing."

"I've known him all of my life and am comfortable with such intrusions; you, however, are probably not."

"He was as tactful as possible, given the circumstances."

Elrond nodded. "You'll find Erestor far more reliable than

Aniviel, and you'll see your clothes again by morning. Rooms are being prepared for you -or, rather, for the arrival of your true self - just through there." Elrond nodded at an all-but-hidden doorway set into a far corner of the room. "They will be ready whenever you wish to reveal your presence to Imladris."

[And in the meantime, am I to sleep with you or in the chamber where I awoke this morning?] Legolas wanted to ask, but dared not. He picked at the food on his plate, his appetite suddenly gone.

"Why did you not arrive with more clothing?" Elrond asked. "Come to that, where is the entourage we were expecting?"

Legolas hesitated before answering, did not look up to meet the Elf-lord's gaze. "I left Mirkwood in a bit of a hurry."

"Were you so eager to reach Imladris, then?"

"You might say that I was..." He chose his words carefully, knowing that the interrogation had begun. "I was eager for the alliance between our two kingdoms to be confirmed."

"Confirmed. I see." Elrond didn't bother hiding his skepticism, and his lengthy silence afterward made Legolas glance up at last. Intense grey eyes held his, commanding him to reveal hidden truths behind the diplomatic phrasing.

Mentally squirming beneath that gaze - which Legolas had no doubt Elrond had used against his sons on occasion and every bit as effectively as he was using it now - Legolas broke away to concentrate on the fascinating pile of demolished food before him. Hopefully, the Elf-lord's interest - or at least his curiosity - would wane in the ongoing silence.

[Even if I win this battle, when he takes me and the bond is established, I will have lost the war. My thoughts will be open to him, up to and including my feelings about my father and this alliance,] Legolas thought in miserable desperation. [Tonight, I would rather be anywhere but here in this chamber with him.]


	8. Chapter 8

CHAPTER EIGHT

"You are quiet and tense and painfully polite," Elrond softly broke the silence between them at last. "For all that you must be hungry, you're not eating very much. Nor are you enjoying the wine."

Startled by his host's concerned tone, Legolas snapped up his head and stared at Elrond. Offering a slight smile, the Elf-lord sat back in his chair, steepled his fingers, and stretched out his long legs. He openly studied his prince now, casually ignoring the younger Elf's discomfort.

"I... I don't drink very much." Legolas offered the crumb of personal information in response to Elrond's careful probing. "Wine dulls the senses and slows the reflexes."

"Ah." [I'm not surprised this one doesn't drink very much,] Elrond thought, [given how much his father does.] Snagging a pitcher and a clean ceramic mug from a nearby, smaller table, he poured out a measure of herbal tea and pushed it toward Legolas across the table. "This might be more to your liking."

"Thank you, m'lord." He sipped at it politely, looked startled, and took a longer pull. "It's very good."

Elrond smiled. "I am glad it pleases. I had despaired of anything within Imladris pleasing you - except the horses."

"My lord Elrond, I--"

All but losing patience with the polite dance between them, Elrond held up a hand to stop the protest before it began. "Just Elrond, if you please. If you are finished pushing the food about on your plate, let me see to your hand."

"I do not wish to offend, Lord... Elrond. It's just that I'm not very hungry."

"No?" Elrond arched a disbelieving eyebrow and was rewarded by seeing those delicate pointed eartips going pink again. Still, he had to give the young prince credit; Legolas did not look away this time. "Perhaps you will be hungry later this evening. Or perhaps you will recover your appetite at breakfast tomorrow, once you discover whether I plan to devour you in the night."

Outrage, fury, apprehension... Elrond was ill-put to keep up with the flow of emotions reflected in the smoldering blue eyes meeting his, and deeper hollows appeared beneath Legolas's high cheekbones as he grit his teeth. Much to Elrond's surprise, the look in Legolas's eyes finally settled into weary submission.

"As you will, my lord."

"My lord again, is it?" Sighing, Elrond sat up. "Whatever else your father may have told you about me, I do not seek a weak, submissive mate, Legolas. It's all right to have opinions - you certainly had some valuable ones regarding the care of my horses. For all of that, you seem determined to repress a great deal of yourself around me. The question is... why?"

"My only wish is to please you." The words came from behind a clenched jaw.

"You think that pretending to have no will of your own pleases me? No, don't argue that," Elrond interrupted as Legolas opened his mouth to begin another submissive defense. "I know you are deliberately hiding yourself from me. The question is... why? Is it because of something I've done, something your father has told you, or something else entirely? I have much time to spend with you, Legolas - not only tonight - and sooner or later, I'll find out what you are hiding. In the meantime, I'll leave you safe behind your gentle mask if you'll let me tend your wounded hand."

A look of fury and frustration flashed briefly in Legolas's smoldering blue eyes. With what might have been a low growl, Legolas shoved aside his unfinished dinner, yanked up the sleeve of his robe, and bared his arm before Elrond.

"So much for supper," Elrond commented wryly, "and so much for being submissive. Now, that was an honest reaction and much better than those coming before, don't you think?"

"No."

Elrond laughed outright, reveling in the reaction he'd inspired. "Come now, Legolas. I doubt I could force you to let me take care of you."

[You've got that right,] said hostile blue eyes.

"You've a fighter's spirit, my friend, and that won't stay buried, no matter how much you think you want it to." Reaching for his scissors, Elrond cut through the soiled bandages while Legolas said nothing. Laying open the wound, he saw that his patient's long soak in the bath had served to bleach white the burn's angry red welts. Rising from his chair and turning the injured hand, Elrond viewed the injury from a different angle while layering a mixture of lavendar and birch oil over the insulted skin. In growing horror, he realized that while the hand was healing, the scarring was taking on an all-too-familiar shape.

"Is that... Did you...." Reaching for a nearby candlelabra, Elrond thumped it atop a stack of sturdy books and angled the light closer. Grasping Legolas's wrist, he raised the hand and turned the Elf's arm so that he could see the burn more clearly. "Sweet Elbereth, the seal of my House is burned into your skin."

"Is that what it is?" Legolas's droll tone did little to reassure his host: Elrond knew the Elf was still irritated at the earlier confrontation Elrond had instigated. The question now was what would be Legolas's ongoing response to that confrontation? Would the walls thicken around the truth, or was there hope of Elrond's scaling them?

"How did this happen?" Elrond demanded, attacking the first wall as it was presented.

"Your seal was on Assassin's stall door. I was stupid enough to touch it during the fire."

Elrond angled the scar another way. "Everyone who sees this will think that I've already claimed you. Branded you."

"Is that not why I am here?" The question came with deceptive mildness.

"Yes," Elrond agreed absently, his attention riveted on the Seal seared into Legolas's skin. "That is, no! You're not here to join with me in that way, at least. Such was never my intention and... and...."

Still holding onto the Elf's hand, Elrond met the Elf's resentful gaze. "Legolas, I am so terribly sorry. If there were any way to obliterate this, I would do it. But even to try would be to injure you further. The Seal is deep. To attempt to remove it now might cause irreperable nerve damage."

"Will the scarring prevent me holding a bow or wielding a knife?"

"Not when it is fully healed."

"Good. That is all that truly matters." The Elf considered the scarred circle. "It's less red than it was this morning. Is it healing well?"

"Yes, but that's not the point!"

"The scarring cannot be helped," Legolas said reasonably. Elrond was furious to see that the submissive look was back in Legolas's eyes. "I will belong to you in the near future, so the Seal cannot even be called a falsity. You might think of it as an outward sign of our imminent bonding."

A deep sadness that Elrond did not understand underlaid the submissiveness this time - sadness that Elrond instinctively knew he should not target just then. [What are you remembering or thinking, my friend?] He stared at Legolas a long time before silently acknowledging the Elf's capitulation. Bandaging the hand, he trailed his fingers over the concealed branding before gently squeezing Legolas's arm.

"You are healing quickly. Tomorrow night, I think we can dispense with the bandages."

"That is well." Pulling down the sleeve of his robe, Legolas quietly awaited whatever Elrond had in mind next.

Moving across the chamber, Elrond leaned against the arched entrance to the terrace and stared beyond it, into his own private, snow-covered garden. [Things between us are not as they should be, neither as new friends nor as would-be lovers,] he reflected. [While Legolas and I work well together on mundane matters, my efforts this night to meet him one-on-one have been met only with frustration on my part and wariness on his. This prince of Mirkwood obviously does not desire the union his father has offered. The question is... why not?]

"I have something that I think you need to see." Turning, Elrond retrieved a scroll from the haphazard collection of documents piled on his desk. Handing it over to Legolas, he relayed, "This is the initial communication I received from your father regarding our alliance."

Unwinding the scroll, Legolas examined it. Pulling up a chair, Elrond sat close by and remembered the words on the parchment well enough to know what Legolas read in his father's own hand. 'It grieved me and my family to learn of the loss of your Lady. My younger son, Legolas, has expressed some notion of offering intimate comfort in a way that may be beneficial to both our kingdoms. With his eager permission, I am writing to explore the possibility of joining our two houses in a marriage alliance....'

Elrond watched Legolas's grip on the paper tighten until it crinkled and his knuckles whitened. The Elf's breathing accelerated, his strong jaw locked once more. "My father sent this to you months ago?"

"He did. As you can see," Elrond offered quietly, tapping the scroll Legolas still gripped, "Thranduil led me to believe our union was your own idea."

"It was not." The words were bitten out. "But... as I said before, I am agreeable to it." Flinging aside the scroll, Legolas all but leaped out of his chair to begin pacing the chamber restlessly.

"Agreeable does not mean desiring," Elrond pointed out placidly, watching his companion circle the small chamber like a great, agitated cat.

The cat rounded on him. Balling his fists at his sides, Legolas glowered down at the Elf-lord and all but shook in his rage. "How would you have me behave? What would you have me say and do? I belong to you, am yours to command. Reveal your expectations and I will do my best to comply."

"You do not belong to me, Legolas, certainly not against your will. My expectation is that you will tell me - honestly and clearly - how it is that Thranduil got you to agree to a marriage bond when you so obviously loathe the idea."

"I agreed," the Elf snarled, "that is all that matters."

"No, it is not. I require more."

Legolas gestured shortly with his good hand. "I have nothing more to offer you."

"I think otherwise. You may not have come to Imladris to offer me love, but you can definitely offer information. Tell me what your father did to make you come here?"

The restless pacing began again. "He convinced me of the wisdom of such a bond."

"I am somewhat familiar with Thranduil's arguments. How did he convince you?"

"He made a rebellious, disobedient son see how he could be of use to Mirkwood for the first time in his sorry life." Legolas glanced over his shoulder as he passed, blue eyes flashing.

"Were those the exact words Thranduil used?"

"Does it matter?" Raw pain in the Elf's voice, quickly repressed. "I learned my lesson well, I am here. It does not matter how I was led to agree to this alliance, Lord Elrond. Agree, I did, as did you. We are both bound, and I am ready to honor my commitment to you and to Imladris."

"I would have the truth, Legolas. How did he make you agree?" Patiently, relentlessly, Elrond cycled back to his original inquiry.

"You want truth? I'll give you truth." The words were bitten out. "I daresay that six weeks in a rat-infested cell beneath Mirkwood would make anyone agree to anything." Legolas flung himself into a chair and gnawed on his knuckles as he glowered at the snow falling on Elrond's terrace.

"Sweet Elbereth," the Elf-lord breathed. "Thranduil thrust you beneath those cold stones and kept you there, without light or hope?"

"He did." Legolas shrugged. "But only until I yielded."

"Which took six weeks."

A bark of a laugh. "I am a most obstinate son, my lord. It was not so bad as all that. He fed me enough to keep the rats at bay, and Mithrandir was allowed the occasional visit. Without his watchcare, I would probably still be there."

Elrond's heart ached. He longed to reach out and gather Legolas into an embrace as he would have his own sons, but knew the gesture would undoubtedly be misunderstood. "Your father betrayed us both, my prince. He stole your life from you and is attempting to thrust you into an eternity that you do not want. He also misled me where you are concerned. You are not at all as you were portrayed in that letter." Elrond gestured at the discarded scroll.

"Thranduil did not betray me." The pain behind the word belied the denial. "He made me willing to serve Mirkwood the best way that I can." Legolas considered a moment. "I will concede that Thranduil may have misled you, but surely you are familiar with Mirkwood's political maneuverings."

Elrond nodded, well-pleased to see a bit of Legolas's own ironic opinions sneaking into the conversation. "I knew. I can only plead vulnerability and loneliness after Celebrian's breaking our bond. In my heart, I held some hope that someone else might want me as she did not."

"You expected your consort - a total stranger - to find you attractive, if not to hold some affection for you?"

"A foolish, unrealistic expectation, certainly."

Legolas shook his head. "Not so unrealistic, given the right prince. You needed someone more like my brother, whose attention can be led and commanded by Thranduil's suggestions, as a kitten can be led and commanded by a string."

"Strange as it may seem, I now find your refusal to be led is far more attractive than any pliable son of Thranduil's could be," Elrond confessed. "And... as painful as it is to admit, this is not the first time your father has misled me." Had Legolas known the Elf-lord better, he would have heard the ring of fury in Elrond's voice on his behalf. "It is bad enough that he would misrepresent your motives to me and force you to do the same. That your father - any father - would confine their child in a dungeon without light or hope for six weeks--"

"I am far from being a child, Lord Elrond. I could have fought and prevented my captivity."

"Why did you not?" Elrond demanded. Legolas shrugged, and the Elf-lord continued. "Was it perhaps because Thranduil sent guards against you whom you had known all of your days? Guards you could never hurt, much less truly fight?"

Legolas threw him a startled look.

"I am all too familiar with your father's methods. Thranduil knew exactly who to set against you to ensure that he achieved his aims. You can rest assured that a dungeon cell awaited you long before the door clanged shut behind you. To incarcerate one's enemies is one thing; to incarcerate one's son is quite another. What was Thranduil thinking? You may be agreeable to this alliance through heartless coercion, Legolas, but you are far from willing. Nor should you be."

"I *am* willing, else I would not be here." Exasperation tinged the Elf's tone.

"Willing!" Elrond nearly bit the word in half as he lost patience. "Let us see how willing you are."

Leaning forward, Elrond moved slowly enough so that Legolas could escape his touch. Lifting the borrowed robes, the Elf-lord laid his hand on Legolas's bare knee and felt hard muscles contract.

"Were you a stallion," Elrond murmured seductively, beginning to caress the inside of that knee with his thumb, "you would be prepared to kick me."

"Given time," Legolas whispered, "stallions can be taught that such behavior is unacceptable."

He closed his eyes when that long-fingered hand left his knee to travel further upward. His thigh was breeched, and Elrond slid his hand inward, toward that most intimate, warm, and guarded of places.

"How delightful that you are wearing nothing beneath these robes," Elrond all but purred.

Sucking in a breath, Legolas opened his eyes wide and tensed as if to bolt. Half-standing, he shoved backward against the chair, only to find it was fetched up against a bookcase. If he could have, he would have scrambled backward over it. As it was,

Legolas leaped to the side and neatly put the chair between him and the Elf-lord.

Giving a small smile, Elrond stood. "I've no doubt you've some skill as a warrior. You move like one."

Wrapping his fingers around Legolas's injured hand, he pulled -gently but incessantly, brooking no refusal. Slowly, with obvious reluctance, Legolas subsided back into the chair. Breathing hard and fast, he willed himself to submit. Leaning the back of his head against the top of the chair, Legolas stared at the beamed ceiling in a desperate attempt at detachment as Elrond stepped closer and closer, deliberately destroying the slight distance between them.

"My prince...." Gathering Legolas's damp hair on either side of his head, Elrond combed his fingers through it gently, and then began again for the sheer, sensuous joy such touching afforded. "Your hair is liquid light, Legolas. You cannot know how much I enjoy feeling it flow through my fingers."

The Elf shivered and closed his eyes, tightened his grip on the arms of the chair. Giving him silent credit for not leaping out of the chair this time, Elrond leaned down and nuzzled Legolas's temple.

"When you came to us only a few hours ago, there were braids here... and here. Earlier, you spoke of a bow," he murmured into the delicate shell of a pointed ear. "You are an archer, then?"

"Yes." Legolas did not open his eyes as Elrond's breath invaded his ear.

"And you have... some skill with knives?"

"Yes." Barely a whisper, beneath which was a shiver.

Elrond let his lips nuzzle just in front of Legolas's ear before whispering, "You are a beautiful warrior come to me then, from Mirkwood."

The lithe body was tensing again, or even more tightly. "You have called me beautiful before. In the bath."

"So I did." Elrond let the tip of his nose caress Legolas's temple. "You do not like being called beautiful?"

Turning his head to discourage the subtle touching and seductive breath tickling his ear, Legolas opened his eyes and met Elrond's gaze gravely from only a few inches away. Almost, their lips were touching. "It matters not to me if you think I am beautiful."

"I see." Cupping Legolas's jaw in the palm of his hand, Elrond murmured, "Then I shall indulge myself where your beauty is concerned and discover how soft the skin is beneath your ear."

Once that curiosity had been satisfied, Elrond let his fingers trail from Legolas's ear to his chin. "There is a dimple here... just here. I have seen glimpses of it, but it has never appeared in response to me. I should like it if, one day, you were to smile just for me. I have seen you strong and soft by turns, Legolas and I wonder, which is real? It matters a great deal to me who you are, what you like and do not like, my prince."

Legolas was gritting his teeth so hard, the Elf-lord thought he might break a molar. Every muscle was ready to fight or to flee given the slightest provocation, and Elrond wasn't certain which response he might inspire, should he pursue this quest to find out exactly how unwilling was his quarry.

"I am not your prince," said Legolas, soft and low and deadly. "Not yet."

"I have seen that look before," Elrond murmured, refusing to stop touching the younger Elf or to give ground until Legolas understood himself as well as Elrond did. "I have seen it on battlefields with Elves prepared to die rather than to surrender."

Legolas narrowed his eyes and growled softly in what Elrond assumed was agreement with those battlefield warriors.

"And so we see some spirit at last," Elrond said, offering a respectful smile before backing up a pace and nodding down at his furious victim. "I think the two of us have just illustrated very nicely the difference between an Elf who is compelled to be willing, and one who desires." Looking stern, Elrond continued, "You will never belong to me willingly, Legolas Thranduilion, regardless what your father has commanded. You do not want this, and you are not for me."

Bowing his head, Legolas spoke low and urgent. "I was unprepared for your assault, Lord Elrond. I will behave better the next time, would honor the alliance and bond with you. I *must*. We must."

Elrond sank into the nearest chair and took a long drink of the by now warm honey-wine. "Why will you not yield and give up this argument?"

"Yielding is how I entangled myself in this situation in this situation to begin with."

"And so, you learned nothing?" The Elf-lord rubbed his temple. "The day has been long, and the night deepens. I weary of this continuous challenge, approached first from one direction and then another. You must crave rest at least as much as I do, so tell me quickly and from the last direction - why do you think so desperately that we must bond in light of all your father has done to maniuplate us into doing just that?"

"Anything less, and Thranduil will assume failure," Legolas said urgently. "He will accuse you of breaking the alliance, of perhaps never having intended to keep it to begin with. He will accuse me of betraying him, of never intending to keep my word to come to Imladris and fulfill my duty to him and to Mirkwood."

"You are so certain he would blame you and not me exclusively?"

Legolas snorted. "I am the obstinate, impossible son and you have already discovered the source of my reluctance to be of service."

The admission came slowly, but Elrond had demanded the truth. Perhaps now Legolas was willing to offer it, as Elrond's methods of ensuring he received it were very much to be avoided.

"More than my father's pride is at stake," Legolas pointed out. "If we do not bond, then Mirkwood will not have what it needs in terms of food and other supplies through the winter and beyond. Mirkwood also needs help protecting itself from the dark forces gnawing at its borders."

That caught Elrond's attention. "What do you know of such dark forces?"

Legolas seemed surprised. "You ask in curiosity rather than with incredibility?"

"Not only am I the Lord of Imladris and known to be a good listener. I have traveled these lands in years past and have lived long enough to find nothing incredible," Elrond reminded him, "not even the thought that so young an Elf as yourself may be familiar with the evil we have long suspected is growing in Dol Guldur."

"I am the Elf who traveled thrice into Dol Guldur at Mithrandir's request." The words spilled out as fast as Legolas could speak now. Some sort of verbal damn seemed to have burst, with the Elf desperate for Elrond to understand and not reject his arguments out of hand, as no doubt Thranduil had rejected them. "Elrond, I have seen the Wraiths, along with others in the Dark One's employ - wolves and orcs and other creatures that I dare not name. I've no doubt his strength is growing, for I have seen it with my own eyes."

Elrond felt a sort of stunned surprise overtake him. "You were the unknown spy in Mirkwood gathering information for Mithrandir to deliver to the Council?"

"I know of no other, my lord."

Elrond eyed the slender Elf with even more respect than he'd felt before. "You continue to amaze me, Legolas. Skilled you may be with knife and bow, but those are worthless against some of the Dark Lord's foes."

Legolas shrugged. "Orcs and wolves can be killed easily with the usual skills, and Wraiths are not so very difficult to evade. They are blind at all hours of the day and night, and if you disguise your scent and learn not to succumb to the fear they inspire, it is childsplay itself to travel through the trees and evade them by not letting them catch your scent on the ground. A stone tossed into distant underbrush is enough to distract them for an hour."

Elrond shook his head in amazement. "You served all of Middle-earth thus, and yet your father is contemptuous of your efforts."

"His pride will not let him openly acknowledge the growing darkness, nor anyone's efforts against it. Yet I believe he knows it is there: witness his desperation to forge an alliance with Imladris. But such an alliance must be his own creation, else he will have none of it."

Nodding understanding, Elrond was secretly thrilled to hear Legolas drop his title and address him only by his given name once more. He dared not remark upon it, lest the Elf revert to the old, stilted formality.

"I have been offering Thranduil support since long before you were born," he pointed out. "You and I need not bond in order for Mirkwood to have the support your father craves."

"You do not understand how he sees such things." Legolas leaned forward, desperate to be heard. "Treaties can be broken, willing support can be stopped, and then Thranduil's people would suffer as well as his pride. I say again that nothing less than a bond uniting our two houses will reassure him that this alliance will not fail."

"So I must take you in a loveless bond to reassure your father that I will not shatter the treaty between us. Does that not seem extreme to you?"

"It seems a way to protect Mirkwood, to look after her people," Legolas argued earnestly. "They are important to me, Elrond, and I believe that I can best serve them in this way."

"You would do well to remember that Mirkwood will eventually pass away, as will all of Middle-earth," the Elf-lord said gently. "You and I, however, will not. We will be tied to each other for all eternity if we do what you suggest. Does that not matter to you?"

"Is it that you do not want me?" Legolas demanded, looking as if he were also losing patience with this argument. "Am I lacking in some way you have not yet revealed? Given a little time to come to know you, I am certain that I could learn to want your touch."

"Could you? Yes, I'm sure that given time you could learn to endure just about anything... except another six weeks in your father's dungeons." Elrond gave a short laugh. "Ah, Legolas, you could not misunderstand me more, were you to deliberately try. I am not certain, even now, that you are not doing so." Rising, he turned toward the terrace. "The snow has stopped falling. Come, walk with me a little."

Legolas followed as he was bidden. They walked together out onto the terrace and from there out into the garden Elrond had tended with exquisite care for many years. A cold moon was trying to peer out from scattered clouds, while Elf-song wafted from somewhere in the darkness. Pausing beside a snow-laden rose bush, Elrond shook the heavy white blanket from its branches.

"Even now, in the dead of winter, when all other life around it is sleeping, this rose tries to bud. It's bloom will know only frost and freezing for its efforts, but still, it will try." Turning to Legolas he said, "I think you are very much like this rose - so willing to throw away your eternity in a loveless bond. You were made for better things."

"I was made to serve Mirkwood."

"As I was made to serve Imladris. But Legolas, I have been caught in a sterile marriage in the past, while you have not. I know whereof I speak, and why you must be rescued from your own folly. You say that I do not want you; that is not so. From the beginning, during the fire, I was struck by your courage. Your beauty claimed me next, and I am caught in your thrall each time I see you. You are beautiful, calm and courageous when you are not afraid of me and of what I might do to you to achieve the bonding you say you want. I am attracted enough to you - for all that I have never desired to mate with a male - that I could make you mine with very little effort. I have the power to force you, after all, and you did come here to join with me. But I set love above power, which is why I will not claim you tonight, and why Thranduil and I will never agree where my bonding with you is concerned."

Legolas seemed to puzzle that out for a few minutes as they wandered in the darkness. "Are you saying that unless I come to care for you, you will not bond with me?"

"Yes, that is exactly what I mean. A bond between two Elves is meant to be forged out of love, not obligation. Is that so unbelieveable? So undesirable?" Elrond moved through the garden, Legolas at his side. "We will find another way to fulfill the alliance and placate your father."

Legolas considered his companion's words. "My father will not stand for it. I must return to Mirkwood and tell him that I have failed."

"But you have not failed. You are feeling desperation and apprehension, all wrapped around the matter of my touching you tonight. We must find a way to overcome that, and at the same time we must serve Mirkwood, you and I." Pausing on the path, he laid a hand on the Elf's shoulder. "If you cannot bear my physical touch, how do you expect to tolerate the mental and emotional touch that would follow were we to bond?"

"I was unprepared before," Legolas protested. "I am not flinching from you now."

"That is because I have assured you that I will not take you tonight. You now read my intent as nothing more than friendly solace. We are connecting as new friends, perhaps, as you sense my caring but no intimate threat and so react to none. However, were I to do this...." Sliding a hand down Legolas's arm, Elrond captured his hand, pulled him closer and leaned down until their lips were nearly touching. "If I were to try and kiss you, what wouold you do then?"

Legolas drew a deep breath. "I... would let you."

"And I would be kissing someone whose every muscle was rigid, someone who was merely enduring me." Elrond held him there for a long moment, letting the Elf feel the strength of the Elf-lord who held him, the power of his embrace and his potential desire. "I know that this holds no attraction for you, Legolas. What attraction do you think your unwillingness holds for me?"

"But you find me beautiful."

Elrond's laugh was bitter. "I find a winter rose beautiful, and such was my wife. A rainbow and a waterfall are also beautiful, but out of reach and unsatisfactory for my purposes. I find my daughter beautiful and her grand-mother, Galadriel, as well. Acknowledging beauty does not usually lead to intimacy, and it will not in this case."

Releasing Legolas, Elrond led him back to the main house.

"Together, we shall plan how to appease your father and win ourselves the time we need."

"This will not work."

"Nonsense. Trust in my wisdom and give me a few hours to think of a plan."

"As you will, Lord Elrond." Reclaiming his chair, Legolas settled into it with all the apparent weariness Elrond felt.

* * *

Staring out at the chill garden, Elrond let his mind wander over several possible plans. When finally he had settled on one and turned to sound it out with Legolas, he discovered the Elf fast asleep where he sat.

[Six weeks in a dungeon, a hurried trip here with Mithrandir, and upon his arrival he dove into a fire,] Elrond mused. [All day, he has battled to save new friends, and to say good-bye to others. And then, tonight, I tried to seduce him. No wonder he sleeps. His fatigue, at least, is honest.]

Coming to stand beside the Elf whom he was fast coming to think of as his prince, Elrond bent to implusively slide his hands beneath Legolas, to lift him into his arms. Legolas weighed far too little, and Elrond frowned to realize that his fingers wer encountering ribs with far too little flesh on them for his liking. [He needs good food, less stress, much rest,] the Elf-lord thought, [and not necessarily in that order. For now, he needs to rest in a proper bed. If he wakes in my arms, I will send him to his own chamber. If he doesn't...]

Giving a sigh, Legolas settled more deeply into the Elf-lord's embrace. His head flopped against Elrond's shoulder as the older Elf shifted him securely against his chest. This was no waking sleep; Legolas's eyes were closed tightly against any intrusion of the night.

"You're exhausted past endurance, aren't you, my friend?" Elrond murmured.

Legolas slept on. Elrond considered the situation for a short moment and then nodded, decision made. Leaving the small common area, he entered his private bedchamber to deposit Legolas gently upon his own bed. Large as it was, the bed could certainly contain an Elf-lord and his erstwhile consort. Tucking Legolas and his robes beneath the covers, Elrond then blew out the candles, undressed, and slipped in beside Legolas.

[This brave prince insists that we must bond,] Elrond reflected. [I think not, but let us see how he reacts to our sleeping together.]

It had been a very long time since Elrond had enjoyed the feel of a warm body beside his. Wrapping his arms around his oblivious bedmate, the Elf-lord tucked Legolas close against his shoulder, wrapped his arms around him, and made certain Legolas was tucked in tight. Certain that he would awake if Legolas so much as rolled over, Elrond let sleep find him as well.


	9. Chapter 9

CHAPTER NINE

Legolas awoke slowly to the bright sound of birdsong, punctuated by someone carefully turning the pages of a book very near his left ear. As sleep slowly gave way to awareness, he gradually became aware of a masculine, muscular and very naked chest rising and falling beneath his other ear. A heavy arm lay over him, and someone's fingers were gently, steadily playing with his hair. Blue eyes snapped open into shocked awareness.

Lurching away from those fingers to rise up on one elbow, Legolas stared into the face of the Lord of Imladris, who looked calmly back at him. So close were they to each other that Legolas could see the fine lines at the corners of the Elf-lord's eyes, and the dark gray ring running around each of his irises.

"Quel amrun," Elrond's voice vibrated against Legolas's chest as he tilted the book away from his bed-mate's face. "I trust you slept well?"

Shoving aside the blankets, Legolas rolled violently away from Elrond and found himself falling. Landing on hands and knees, he scrambled on the wood floor to gain his bare feet, only to have the annoying folds of the borrowed robes tangle around his legs and nearly trip him.

Still, somehow, he found himself on the far side of the bedchamber, fetched up against the tapestried wall. Adrenalin coursed through his veins and he gasped to breathe. Balling his fingers into fists, he fought to think beyond the base instinct telling him to grab the nearest weapon, which happened to be Elrond's broadsword, fastened on the wall to the left of Legolas's head.

"How did I get in your bed?" Legolas demanded, raking his fingers through his hair in a worthless effort to get the long strands to stay out of his eyes.

"You were very tired."

"I have been tired before, but never before have I awakened to find myself in someone's bed!"

"I should hope that I am the first," Elrond commented dryly, setting aside his book.

"Are we bonded?" Legolas cast his thoughts back to the night before. "Beyond our conversation, there is only blackness in my mind where memories should be. You must tell me--"

"Tell you what? That I lied when I said I would not take you last night, and then drugged you with the tea and claimed you while you slept?" Elrond raised his voice in outrage. "Do you feel bonded to me?"

"How should I know what being bonded feels like?" Legolas all but shouted. "How can I tell of a feeling that I have never felt!"

"Legolas," Elrond intoned with heavy deliberation and reached for a patience he was far from feeling. It did not manage to override the irritation in his voice. Setting his long legs on the floor, he left the bed and crossed to his guest, who all but climbed up the wall backward at the sight of a tall and very naked Lord of Imladris bearing down on him. At that moment, all reason fled, leaving Legolas's instincts in control of the moment.

Elrond saw the panic in the younger Elf's eyes, saw him reach for the broadsword that had last seen battle at Mount Orodruin. Legolas wrapped his fingers around the hilt of the sword and raked a fury-filled gaze over the broad-shouldered, well-built Elf.

Stepping so close Elrond's toes challenged the younger Elf's for room, the Elf-lord's long fingers closed around Legolas's wrist. Pressure was brought to bear on sensitive tendons, but Legolas still gripped the sword. His gaze shifted to focus beyond the Elf-lord, and Elrond read his thoughts instantly. [He's about to release the sword, drop beneath my arm, and lunge behind to attack with whatever is at hand.]

"Let go, Legolas," Elrond murmured in what he hoped was a soothing manner. "You don't mean to attack me. I know you are not truly awake yet. By Elbereth, I swear once more that no harm will come to you."

"Am I bonded to you?" Legolas demanded once more, his every muscle tensed.

"We are not bonded," Elrond assured, careful not to further crowd Legolas. "I prefer my lovers awake and willing rather than unconscious and oblivious. And I suggest very strongly that you let go my sword. Now."

Legolas's wrist was shrieking with pain, his fingers and upper arm were going numb. Some part of his mind registered that Elrond was applying only enough pressure to make his defiant guest think rationally about the situation and hopefully release his weapon without further violence. Another part of Legolas's mind wanted to sob with a mixture of relief and frustration - relief that there was no bond, and frustration that there was no way out of the ongoing nightmare trap King Thranduil had set for him.

Elrond increased the pressure on the wrist a fraction more, and Legolas hissed, then looked up to meet the eyes of his captor. They were calm, deliberate and determined. Another slight twist and the wrist would snap under the pressure of Elrond's long fingers, thus forcing Legolas to surrender the weapon. They both knew it, and those eyes informed Legolas clearly that Elrond was willing to do so. Yield, the gaze demanded, giving him one more chance to choose for himself.

"I am a healer as well as a warrior. I will set it for you later," Elrond murmured.

Reason reawoke in Legolas's mind with a muted whisper that ending the pain might be a wise idea, as this battle as well as the war was already lost. He settled for releasing the sword hilt and glowered up at the Elf-lord, who was certainly as trapped as he was.

"Thank you," Elrond said mildly.

Taking the sword, he moved across the chamber and laid the weapon safely out of reach on the bed. Shrugging into an outer robe, Elrond continued as if nothing had happened.

"I didn't want to wake you this morning, for you were sleeping very soundly and needed the rest. Now that you are awake, you will join me for breakfast and learn the details of my plan to handle your father." Turning, he arched an eyebrow at Legolas, as if to invite his comment or refusal, but the Elf was contented to remain silent where he stood and nurse his throbbing wrist. Moving into the outer chamber, Elrond ordered, "Join me now."

The Elf-lord's tone brooked no refusal, and Legolas followed reluctantly, yielding to the Lord of Imladris's authority but wanting nothing more than to bolt out of Imladris as well as out of the chamber, to find a place - anyplace - where insane fathers and powerful Elf-lords could not threaten or command him.

[I slept with him and did not wake when he carried me to his bed and climbed in beside me,] Legolas thought, disgusted with the betrayal of his body. [Yet he will not bond with me. What does this mean, and does he expect me to sleep again with him tonight? This is far too much to think about, things are happening far too fast. Only last night I was all but demanding that he bond with me for the sake of peace and Mirkwood. How could I have been so ignorant?]

What Legolas did not appreciate in particular was how blissful and contented he had felt while hovering, for a few precious minutes between sleep and full waking, in Elrond's arms. His trecherous body now knew and remembered the sweetness of being held against the hard body of the older male. The comfort of simple touch and caring had long been absent from his life, and he hadn't realized how much he missed it. Part of Legolas ached for such contact now, so much so that he hated it.

His traitorous scalp tingled, as if his skin wanted more of Elrond's long fingers threading through his hair. He raked his fingers through the hair roughly, as though to scrub away the memory of that touch. Beyond that, Legolas growled inwardly at the part of him that was avidly watching Elrond stride in front of him. He knew far too much about the powerful body beneath those robes now. All too clearly in his mind's eye, Legolas saw Elrond once more naked. He luxuriated in the memory and felt himself stir. Once again, he saw and growled at the long legs and powerful thighs striding toward him, at the sight of Elrond's manhood swinging so heavily between those thighs, large even in its flaccidity. Closing his eyes against the memory, Legolas nearly bumped into Elrond when he stopped beside the table.

"Easy," Elrond said, catching Legolas's elbow, only to release him a moment before the Elf leaped back, startled. With a slight smile, Elrond reached for a pitcher and offered quietly, "Tea?"

Silently, carefully, and willing his fingers not to drop the accursed mug, Legolas took the mug and gulped almost desperately at its contents. Finding his chair and sinking down with a despair that was bone deep, he plunked the mug onto the table and stared into its depths as if it held all of the mysteries of Middle-earth.

"Will you eat something?" Elrond asked.

"I don't think I can right now."

"As you wish, my prince." Settling into his own chair, Elrond waited to see if there would be any reaction to the endearment. It seemed not; Legolas had totally withdrawn.

[Again, or still?] Elrond wondered. [Our sleeping together has proven my point all too well. Even Legolas must now admit that he is not ready to bond with me.] Stifling a sigh of frustration that he had won the battle but obviously lost the war, Elrond deliberately shifted tactics.

"You tell me that you were adept at guarding Mirkwood's border," he began conversationally, pouring his own tea and spreading jam across a slices of bread. "My twin sons, Elladan and Elrohir, are only about fifty years older than you. They run together, alone and with the Rangers, to guard Imladris's borders, destroying any and all orc enclaves they may find."

"Fortunate elves," Legolas muttered to his tea mug.

Elrond raised an eyebrow at the sullen tone, then continued. "Earlier this morning, Erestor informed me they have arrived home."

"Erestor came in here while I was abed with you?" Legolas demanded, blue eyes widening in dismay.

"He entered the outer chamber only and called the information within. What I propose is this," Elrond continued. "If Elladan and Elrohir deem your skills to be worthy, and if you wish to do so, you may travel with them to help guard Imladris as you guarded Mirkwood. As for your father, I shall send word that you have arrived and tell him that I am well-pleased with you. He will further be informed that while we are officially betrothed, we wish to take a few months to come to know each other and will marry in the fall. That will win six months of freedom for you."

"I appreciate your efforts, but it won't matter," Legolas said softly. "Thranduil will still claim me, for I have failed to bond with you."

Elrond ignored him. "Wine, supplies and warriors will be sent with this message to help Mirkwood and to buy the king's cooperation. I know this is not a permanent solution, Legolas, but before the six months are exhausted, some miracle may occur to give us more time, or perhaps we will find a way to make the bonding palatable to you."

Reluctant eyes met Elrond's gaze. "By palatable, you still mean that I should love you."

"I have not changed my mind over-night." Elrond pushed the jam-jar toward Legolas.

Sighing, Legolas poked the outside of the jar with his finger and pushing it back across the table. "I say again that Thranduil will be satisfied with nothing except that I bond with you. Nothing else will assure him that the alliance cannot be broken."

"Obsessive, isn't he?"

"You have no idea."

"I accept that we must bond, Legolas. I just don't think it need be tomorrow or in six months. We have time to plot additional strategies and use them against your father. Again, I say that a miracle may occur, or we may find the means to create one. In the meantime, my sons will test you. You must test them as well and see if you wish to run with them."

Rising from his chair and resigned to the fact that once more Legolas was going to eat nothing from his table, Elrond gave a slight bow. Legolas rose as well, and watched him with worried eyes.

"For now, we will have no more discussion on the matter," Elrond announced. "I have finished tormenting you now, and am going to dress. After that, I shall go downstairs to check on Assassin and the others, and to talk with Glorfindel regarding when we might begin moving everyone out of the Hall of Fire so that the servants will stop casting evil glances our way."

Gesturing, Elrond continued, "While the outlying chamber is not entirely ready for your occupancy, it does contain everything you brought to Imladris, including your bow and quiver. I believe you'll find your knives within as well. Also within is the clothing Erestor promised and delivered earlier this morning. At your leisure, Legolas, you are free to join Glorfindel and me."

So saying, Elrond disappeared into his private bedchamber, leaving Legolas alone to fend for himself. Had he looked back, Elrond would have seen his guest standing stalk still and staring in shock after him.

Legolas's stomach rumbled, his appetite returning as he dared to relax a bit now that the threatening host had departed. Snagging a few pieces of buttered toast, he dared to carry his mug of tea into the adjoining chamber, to explore within and discover that all Elrond had said was true. Legolas was pleased to discover that, in addition to his own now-clean clothing, Erestor had provided numerous sets of new things.

Grateful, he stripped off the annoying borrowed robes, letting them fall where they would on the floor in his eagerness to be free of them as he reached for far more comfortable and useful garments. An undertunic and leggings were dived into. Soft leather boots were pulled on. The long blond hair was combed back, braided and tied off. Smaller braids were secured at his temples to prevent the unruly strands from snagging in the bow, and quickly finished by fingers that had done them for years. Reaching for his quiver, Legolas allowed himself the brief luxury of caressing the worn leather with something approaching affection.

He knew every inch of the leather jesses and buckles as well as he knew his carefully honed warrior's skills and ability to defend that which he loved. Thranduil may have tossed him out of Mirkwood, but Legolas knew within his heart that, with Elrond's welcome and understanding, he could come to care every bit as deeply for Imladris and its people as he had for those of Mirkwood. With caring came other feelings - a fierce determination to protect and the knowledge that he could help both Mirkwood and Imladris if Elrond would only allow it. His heart sang at the prospect of showing Elrond's sons what he could do in their father's service - and being free to do it outside of Imladris, not to mention away from Elrond.

Legolas checked the state of his knives and the condition of his arrows before slipping into the harness and securing it. Pulling free his hair, he adjusted the soft leather jerkin he wore over his tunic, making sure that everything fit comfortably and wouldn't restrict his reach in any way. Arrows and knives were accessible, all was in order.

With every routine movement, the Elf felt more himself. Belting the tunic, he reached for his last piece of buttered bread and then his bow. Munching on the former, he slung the latter over his shoulder and headed for the door. Depending on how things went with the horses and the twins, perhaps he might even find the appetite to partake again of mid-day meal? Legolas hoped so, for after having Elrond order his presence that morning, the younger Elf had no doubt that the Lord of Imladris would find effective ways of force-feeding him, if necessary. It was far better if Legolas forced himself to yield without making Elrond discover creative new ways of making his unruly consort-to-be obey. [He's probably getting a good idea as to why Thranduil felt it necessary to prepare a dungeon hold for me.]

Making small, final adjustments to the leathers running across his shoulder to hold the quiver in place, Legolas exited the chamber and gained the exterior balcony only to discover Elrond about to descend the stairs that leading from their private chambers down into the library.

"I didn't expect to see you so soon," the Elf-lord admitted, looking pleased when Legolas fell into step beside him.

Legolas offered a slight, almost shy smile. "I have had a bit to eat, and I feel more myself in these clothes. Please allow me to apologize for nearly attacking you earlier this morning, and to thank you. Your generosity in feeling and in substance is more than I deserve, Lor... Ah, Elrond. I wish there was something you would allow me to do for you in return." It was the most he'd ever said to the Elf-lord, and it came out in a rush.

Turning as he gained the library floor, Elrond clasped Legolas's shoulder while he still stood on the last step, met his gaze on the level. "You truly wish to do something for me?"

"I do."

"Then you must find ways to be happy here in Imladris."

Legolas's brow furrowed. "You would ask nothing for yourself?"

"I enjoy pleasing my people," the Elf-lord confessed. "I enjoy seeing them smile and knowing that they are happy here."

"How astonishing," Legolas gave voice to his first thought. "Thranduil would never worry after such a thing. That his people survive, yes. That they are happy, I think not."

"Not all Elf-lords are created alike, Lasgalen." Elrond dared smooth down the braid at Legolas's temple before turning to lead the way out of the double doors leading from the library.

"Do you require anything else this morning, my lord?" Erestor's voice spoke from the shadows.

"No. Thank you, Erestor."

The austere Elf offered a bow to Legolas. "Are the new things to your liking, Lord Lasgalen?"

"Very much so. Thank you." Ignoring the predatory look in Erestor's gaze, Legolas lengthened his stride to catch up with Elrond. Once they had gained the inner hall, he spoke low, so as not to be overheard by any other eavesdroppers.

"I've never heard such forthright honesty such as yours from anyone before," Legolas confessed as Elrond shortened his stride temporarily to accommodate his companion. "Anyone except Mithrandir, that is. But then, he's an outspoken wizard of uncertain origins and not an Elf-lord."

"Mithrandir is indeed a breed unto himself, and a refreshing one at that. One always knows where one stands in conversation with him." Together, the two pushed through the tall doors leading into the Hall of Fire. "I find his tactlessness an inspiration, don't you?"

"Absolutely."

"Whose tactlessness?" Glorfindel descended upon them. "Are you talking about me again?"

"Absolutely," Elrond echoed Legolas's reply. "And so, tell us Glorfindel, tactlessly and truthfully, how are the horses this morning?"


	10. Chapter 10

CHAPTER TEN

Elrond was seated at his desk and working steadily on a draft of the communication to be sent to King Thranduil when, not long after dark, his son Elladan staggered into the library, only to collapse into a chair before the desk.

Arching an eyebrow, Elrond addressed his most urgent concern first. "Are you bleeding anywhere?"

"No - no," the Elf gasped. "Lasgalen was careful about that, but little else. Just let me catch my breath, Adar."

Setting aside his notes, Elrond leaned back and waited patiently for the report to come. In the meantime, his healer's gaze assessed the rumpled, tumbled state of the one before him. [I see smudges there, there, and there that might be bruises. And there is dirt and mud on his leggings, which tell me he got the short end of some battle or other.]

"Where is your brother?" Elrond suddenly demanded.

"Outside." Elladan panted. "With Lasgalen. Don't worry, Elrohir isn't bleeding, either. But that fact owes more to Lasgalen's skills than to any my brother might possess. Father, where did you find him?"

"Elrohir? He was born a few minutes after you, as I recall."

"Gaah!" Elladan protested. "Seriously, Lasgalen can't be from Lothlorian, Haldir can't have trained him. He has none of Haldir's flaws, and he showed us a few tricks I've never seen before and hope I never see again."

Hiding a smile, Elrond set aside parchment and quill. "My son, Lasgalen hails from Mirkwood."

Total silence met that announcement for a long moment before storm-flashed, obstinate blue eyes met his. "You cannot be serious, Adar. Tell me Lasgalen is from Gondolin. Lie if you must."

Elrond merely shook his head.

Sitting bolt upright, Elladan gestured outside, back the way he had come. "Thranduil's minions trained THAT?"

"You have a problem with this?" Elrond asked. "Is Lasgalen so unworthy, then, to travel with the two of you?"

"Unworthy? You mean to tell me that you didn't know what he was capable of?"

Elrond silently shook his head. "That is why I asked you to test him."

"Good." Elladan slouched back down in the chair. "I feared Elrohir and I had offended you in some way, that you should set such a whirlwind upon us, unwarned." Narrowing his gaze, he spread his legs before him and steepled his fingers in a gesture very much like his father's. "You asked my dear brother and I to test him, did you not? Well, then, let me tell you what happened. First of all, the reason Elrohir isn't in here is because he's still out there licking his wounds."

Elrond couldn't help it; he laughed at the thought of his proud son being bested by someone fifty years younger. "It would seem that everyone did my bidding today, for I also asked Lasgalen to test the two of you."

"Test us? Oh yes, he tested us. We came at him hard and fast and together - attacked him on two sides at once, thinking he was easy prey and we'd finish early on. Your fighter from Mirkwood dropped and rolled to evade us, drew his knives, spun and slashed and routed us. Both of us. Without panic or fear, with nerves of mithral and a wicked technique that's beauty itself to behold--as long as he's not coming at you. Wherever we were, there he was not. As soon as Elrohir swallows his pride, I'm sure he'll be asking to see some of those moves in a much slower, less threatening manner."

Elrond smiled. "So, what you are saying is that this child of Mirkwood can fight."

"As much as it pains me to do so - yes."

"And you'll take him with you when next you go out, should he find you worthy of his companionship?"

"Find us worthy?" Elladan protested. "I hope that we didn't give a showing as bad as all that. From from what I can see, Lasgalen's not conceited about his abilities. In fact, your Mirkwood warrior is nearly as silent as my brother. But he did help Elrohir up from the dirt. Lasgalen even asked after his welfare."

"Did he help you down into the mud as well, as the stainwork on your leggings suggests?" Elrond asked.

"Once or twice," Elrohir admitted sheepishly. "Any road, Lasgalen helped up Elrohir and challenged us next to an archery competition. We're fairly square on that. He doesn't like swordwork much and prefers the shorter, faster blades, though he is competent with a heavier weapon, which means Elrohir and I are the better side of even on that one. It's just with the knives that he buries the two of us."

Elrond nodded, satisfied with the assessment. "Lasgalen is smaller and faster."

"Much faster when he wants to be," came the wry admission.

"Given MIrkwood's numerous enemies, I would imagine Lasgalen has had more experience in knifework. Learn from him, if you can."

"We can and will. He's already agreed to go with us when we leave. Is that what you wanted?"

Elrond rubbed the bridge of his nose. "It's not so much what I want as what he needs, my son. Lasgalen is a free soul. To cage him within these walls would be to kill him."

"Cage him?" Elladan frowned. "I don't understand. Isn't he a free agent, to come and go as he pleases?"

Elrond drew a deep breath. "I suppose you should know the truth of it, if you're going to travel with him and protect one another."

Beckoning his son closer, Elrond waited until Elladan had come to sit on the corner of his desk, had leaned over so that whatever confidence was to come could not be caught by other, ever-listening Elven ears.

"What I have to tell you now is in confidence, at least until Lasgalen wishes it otherwise. Yes, he is of Mirkwood. He is also Thranduil's son, come from there to join with me in a marriage alliance."

Elladan's eyes grew wide. Elrond hadn't seen him look so surprised since the moment his mother, Celebrian, had introduced him to the wrinkled, screaming babe that was his new sister, Arwen.

"His real name is Legolas," Elrond continued, "and yes, he is indeed the younger prince of Mirkwood."

"Thranduil's son just wiped the forest floor with my brother?"

"It would seem so."

Elladan considered this news silently for a few moments, then asked, almost desperately, "Are you certain he's Thranduil's son, Adar? Really certain?"

Elrond laughed in answer to his son's dismay.

"You know," Elladan said slowly, "I've as much love for the king as you do. It's a good thing this prince of Mirkwood fights as he does because it would stick in my craw if I had to protect him. I'll run with him in the wilds, but I refuse to mind him as I would some bumbler."

Elrond laughed. "Walk softly, my son. I have known my prince only for a few short days, and yet I think I can safely venture that it was probably a pleasure for him to wipe the dirt with you and your brother--especially as I'm sure you made it obvious you thought he was easy prey. Legolas is no delicate flower to bloom only in court. In fact, he seems as unlike his sire as are straw and gold."

"Thank the Valar for that. If he were like Thranduil, Elrohir and I would have to strongly consider widening our patrols. But why don't you want to keep him here?" Elladan asked. "Surely, if he's the one you're to bond with, Legolas is supposed to be with you and not with us?"

"He had a difficult month preceding his arrival in Imladris," Elrond said carefully, not wanting to reveal how reluctant his prince was to stay anywhere near him. "Legolas needs to travel freely, to recover himself. He's used to guarding the borders of Mirkwood and Mithrandir was sending him into Dol Guldur, so he is not untried."

"Dol Guldur?" he breathed. If anything, Elladan's eyes widened more.

"Don't get any ideas of haring off in that direction," Elrond warned. "The Dark One's keep is specifically off limits to all three of you, as is Mirkwood. I'll threaten you all you with certain death, should you go anywhere near that Valar-forsaken place. All I want is for you and Elrohir to run Legolas out into the surrounding woods for a few days. Let him focus his frustrations and settle his energy by killing orcs, but don't let anything happen to him or cross any borders with him. He has run with the Rangers along his own borders, so that they know who he is. You must not let them see him, and you must not take him beyond our immediate area this first trip. Do I make myself clear?"

"As always, Father. But why would he rather run with us than be with you, even in these early days when your knowing each other is so new?" Elladan pursued.

"We are taking our time coming to know each other, and he is taking his time coming to know Imladris. The people do not yet know that he is Thranduil's son, come to bond with me. They know him only as Lasgalen and think him an advance scout from Mirkwood. That is as we wish it today."

"As you will, Father," Elladan said with some bewilderment. "You know we will honor your requests, however strange we may find them."

"It is very important that you bring him safely back to me," Elrond insisted. "Don't let his superior knifework cause any rivalry between the three of you. You've other skills in common, so let Legolas lead in that, and let him teach you. I daresay that you and Elrohir will find ways of teaching him as well."

"Are we intruding?" a soft voice spoke from the doorway.

Elrond and his son looked up as Elrohir stomped into the library, flung down his bow, and inspected a tear in his tunic. Behind him followed a more sedate Legolas, who carried his bow on his back and looked as relaxed and unsullied as he had when he'd joined Elrond upon the stair earlier in the day.

"No, Lasgalen, you are not. Elrohir, are you all right?"

"Mmphm." Not bothering to look up, the twin in question continued plucking at his tunic.

"I think I only scratched him," Legolas said apologetically, "but he will not let me see. Will you look at it, Elrond?"

"No, don't!" Elrohir growled, slapping a hand over the hurt. His blue eyes flashed at Legolas, who somehow managed to look both apologetic and unrepentant.

"I'll convince him to let me see it later," Elrond smoothed over the moment and rose from his desk. Elladan slipped off of the corner and and stood beside his father. "Lasgalen, your lungs must be well-healed if you can hold your own against my sons this afternoon. You seem well able to take care of yourself, and to guard my sons' backs as well. Do you then wish to travel for a few days with them, outside of Imladris?"

Legolas's sudden smile revealed neat white teeth and a dimple on the right Elrond had never seen before. "I would welcome the opportunity, my lord."

"So be it. I take it that the two of you are agreeable to this adventure as well?" He turned his attention on his sons.

"Yes," Elrohir offered immediately.

A glance at the older twin told Elrond that Elladan wasn't yet through staring at the newcomer from Mirkwood. Stifling a smile to note that his son was having the exact same reaction to Legolas that his father had days before, Elrond gripped his son's shoulder.

"Elladan, what of you? Are you agreeable?"

The Elf started at the sound of his name, his attention snapping back to the discussion at hand. "Ah, yes, Father. I think we can manage to keep him out of trouble."

Elrond nodded. "You three will leave tomorrow morning to see if you can travel together without injuring one another. There are a few ground rules I wish to make known to ensure everyone's safety. Shall we discuss them over supper?"

Two 'Yes, Father's' were his, along with a 'Yes, Elrond,' which somehow warmed his heart. [Gone is his formality,] Elrond noted, [at least for the moment. The freedom of familiar weapons in his hands on the training grounds seems to have done a bit toward settling his anxieties, and he also seems more relaxed in my presence with the twins nearby.]

Under Elrond's observant gaze, Legolas willingly went in to supper for the first time in the Great Hall. The smell of food, the sound of music and Elven laughter embraced them.

Legolas moved closer to Elrond and glanced up at him as they crossed the threshold. "You've moved the horses and reclaimed the hall, then?"

"Indeed, yes." A hand at Legolas's elbow guided him forward to the table long assigned Elrond and his guests. "A much-recovered Assassin is enjoying his new, larger stall this evening. I'm afraid, however, that the Seal of the House of Elrond no longer guards his door." Elrond directed him to sit between him and his sons. "Take the seat on my right, Lasgalen, if you please."

"It's about time you got here," Glorfindel grumbled, passing the wine down the table to the newcomers.

"Have you kept back any for us, or have you drank it all?" Elladan demanded, peering with one eye into the black depths of the stone carafe with great suspicion.

"Easy enough to find out." Snatching the carafe from his brother, Elrohir upended it into a nearby mug. A few drizzles of liquid came out, but nothing more.

Legolas laughed outright at the scowl Elrohir bestowed on Glorfindel, who had the grace to look sheepish as he called for more wine. Elrond absorbed the sound of that laughter, hearing it run free and uninhibited for the first time.

"There's always water," Legolas said mildly, which remark led to much protestation and debate under Elrond's watchful eye.

Sitting back, the younger Elf dove into the plate of food set before him. Outside of a few anxious glances cast at the other, resident Elves who had already begun feasting, he seemed determined to ignore those in the hall who watched with benign curiosity. The conversation flowed well that night once the wine was delivered, and Elrond let his children and his prince lead in planning their trip. More than once, Legolas caught and held Elrond's gaze, with his blue eyes revealing gratitude and anticipation of the coming foray.

They talked long into the night, with Glorfindel deserting them early on for more music and much dancing in the Hall of Fire as a small celebration of the horses' departure was taking place. The candles had burned low and moonlight spilled into the hall when the twins finally bid their father good-night and left Elrond with Legolas, who seemed somehow reluctant to leave their father's side until Elrond himself had retired.

"Have you found something that makes you happy?" Elrond asked after the twins had drained the last of their wine and took their leave of the now-deserted Great Hall.

"I believe so, thanks to your kindness and generosity."

Burning logs collapsed to decaying embers in the fireplace across the room, drawing Legolas's attention as sparks flew up the chimney. His hair glowed in the moonlight, and Elrond impulsively reached out to run a hand down its length. He did it only once, and, much to Elrond's surprise, Legolas allowed the contact. Abandoning his interest in the fire, he looked mildly back at his host but did not tense at the touch.

"I know something else that should ensure your happiness," said the Elf-lord, daring to smooth down that golden cascade of hair once more. "Your bedchamber was finished today, and so its secluded privacy awaits whenever you wish."

"Then you do not wish my presence in your bed this night?" Almost, the Elf's tone was teasing, but Elrond could hear the sudden tension behind the question.

Seeking and finding the end of a fine braid, Elrond shook his head. "Not unless and until it is where you wish to be, my prince. Ah, there is one more thing I almost forgot."

Catching Legolas's wounded hand, Elrond ignored the stiffening of muscles and the catch in the Elf's breathing. Carefully untying the bandage, Elrond inspected the branded seal in the skin beneath. "As I thought, the wound has suffered no further with your using the hand in conflict today. Be gentle with it as far as you can, and take the oils and extra bandages in case you need them. I will trust to Elbereth that you will not."

"I will be fine. You needn't worry."

Smoothing over the brand that was very near to healed now, Elrond tried to push aside the distress he felt that, starting tomorrow, Legolas would be out of reach of his care.

"I worry for all of those I care for," he said softly, ever mindful of the servants standing by just outside the doors as the lord they served was still in the Great Hall. "I will leave you with the blessing Gil-Galad bestowed upon me each time we parted for battle, Lasgalen. 'May the light of Elbereth guard you, and may her love guide you until she brings you back to me.'"

A final caress, and Elrond left Legolas alone in the Great Hall before journeying to the stables to check on Assassin, who really needed no checking as he was far out of danger now. When finally Elrond retreated to his private chambers, he moved silently, impulsively to open the door connecting his rooms with Legolas's.

Moonlight fell across the bed sheltering the younger Elf, and Elrond was relieved to see the glittering golden hair spilled across the pillows. Just before dawn, Elladan and Elrohir would steal him away without a farewell, as was their wont. Good-byes were not to be had, not since their mother had permanently said good-bye. Foolishly and in superstition perhaps, father and sons had promised to never say good-bye, as if in its avoidance any lasting farewell or death 'somewhere out there' could be averted.

Legolas had been drawn into the circle of their family now, so that there would be no good-byes for him either. The last Elrond would look upon his prince was in this moment, while he lay sleeping. If only for this night, all was right in Elrond's world; Legolas was happy and safe and sleeping peacefully only a few steps away.

Settling carefully on the bed, Elrond chanced waking Legolas to once more give in to the impulse to stroke the golden strands spread out before him. The Elf sighed softly in his sleep, and Elrond dared to stroke his fingers lightly across Legolas's temple, to smooth the fine hair away from his forehead.

After many minutes and with an effort, Elrond rose from the bed and turned to make his way back into his own chamber, which seemed somehow empty and lonely this night. The Mirkwood prince had made himself a home already in Elrond's heart, a fact the Elf-lord acknowledged with a heavy sigh. Settling into his chair before the fire, Elrond let his mind drift long into the night and contemplated how the slender, golden warrior had so thoroughly invaded his life and had come to matter so much to him in so short a time.


	11. Chapter 11

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Balancing his bow across his lap, Legolas shifted slightly to find a more comfortable position on the tree branch he had claimed for guard duty this night, while Elladan and Elrohir slept peacefully on the ground beneath him. He had been amazed when the twins agreed that he should take watch by himself through the night.

"You trust a warrior of Mirkwood to guard your sleep?" Legolas had asked.

"Father trusts you," Elrohir pointed out succinctly before stalking off to set the snare that would trap their rabbity supper.

Elladan grinned at him. "Not to mention you've the skills to kill both of us while we're awake, so what is the difference? Which reminds me... Are you up to more sparring after we eat?"

"Of course."

Legolas had obliged them fully by being both predator and prey in the combat games they'd engaged in over the last two days. Invigorated rather than wearied by their strenuous efforts to best each other, Legolas felt confident all three of them could find additional skills with which to torment one another for the next two days.

A companionable full moon rose slowly through the fir trees lining the banks of the stream meandering nearby, and the Elf dared relax his vigil just a little to watch the deer that had come to drink. He had seen more wildlife over the past 48 hours with Elrond's sons than he had for the past six months during his patrols of Mirkwood's forests.

[There are no giant spiders here to eat the fawns,] Legolas realized, [and there are far less wolves or Orcs than I imagined to threaten the bear and elk and great cats. No Shadows reach from Dol Guldur to chase out the smaller prey, and so it lives in relative safety--for now, at least. I must remember to compliment Elrond on the peace he has forged with such care.] Legolas smiled to add yet another item to the already-long, mental list he was compiling for the Elf-lord. [How is it that I constantly find myself thinking of him?] came the perplexing thought.

Perhaps it was because when he closed his eyes and focused, he could still hear Elrond's voice during their last conversation in the Great Hall, and feel the Elf-lord's fingers in his hair. Legolas had gone to sleep after leaving Elrond, only to be awakened a few hours later by someone caressing his hair yet again. Lying on his stomach, his first fear was that Erestor had dared invade his bedchamber, but further reflection made Legolas realize that he recognized the large hand, and its touch, as Elrond's.

[What is he doing?] Legolas wondered, ordering his body to relax and settling deeper into the pillows. [More to the point, why is he doing it when he just did it in the Great Hall? What is his seeming unending fascination with my hair?] Legolas supposed he could have rolled over and asked, but that would mean Elrond would have stopped touching him. That, Legolas was surprised to discover, he had not wanted.

Two more days of freedom stretched out before him, and Legolas was determined not to waste a moment of them. He refused to sleep, not wanting to waste any part of the gift of freedom Elrond had given him for fear Thranduil would snatch it away in only a few weeks' time.

[I can sleep when we return to Imladris,] he reminded himself. Out here, he could walk among the trees, notch arrows and let them fly for the protection of those left behind in Elrond's gentle community, and follow the twins who moved swiftly, silently and watchfully to cover vast distances while patroling their home. [Would that Thranduil could be satisfied with Elrond's efforts, so that Imladris could be my home as well,] Legolas thought wistfully.

The three Elves had discovered much to teach one another, and Legolas welcomed the lessons. It was a novel thing for him to run with strangers rather than the Mirkwood guard whom he'd known all of his life, or the Rangers whom he'd known all of their lives, to learn Elrond's guardians' ways and test his mettle against them.

Leaving Imladris before the sun had crept over the canyon walls, Legolas and the twins had journeyed upward through winter-weak light to challenge the snow still blanketing the forest. Leaving the well-traveled paths early, they rode companionably along until Elladan had inadvertantly called Legolas by his given name rather than Lasgalen to reveal his true identity.

"Legolas?" Elrohir had pounced, almost hissing. "So you're not an advance scout after all, but the Prince of Mirkwood come to... to...." Legolas caught the shiver Elrohir gave, as if to think the thought was repugnant enough; to voice it might make him throw up his toenails.

[I've felt the same way, my friend,] Legolas thought wryly. Aloud, he settled for murmuring, "I'm supposed to bond with your father, yes. We are, however, still in negotiations where that is concerned."

"What does that mean?" Elrohir demanded. "Aren't you and Thranduil happy with the ongoing dowry Mirkwood's getting for your deflowering?"

"Elrohir--" Elladan beagn.

"No," Legolas interrupted. "It's all right, I understand how the two of you must feel."

Elladan guilded his mount closer to Elrohir to lay a soothing hand on his arm. "Such matters are between Legolas and Father. We have no part in them."

Elrohir shook off the hand and glowered. "Be that as it may, I seek an explanation as to why you are out here in the cold with us, rather than warming the Lord of Imladris's bed as dictated by the treaty we've glimpsed?"

"I knew nothing of the agreement forged between Lord Elrond and Thranduil until your father showed its beginnings to me two nights ago." [Has it really been that long? It seems but a handful of hours,] thought Legolas. "The king forced me into this agreement, and while such forcing does not--"

"Forced, how?"

Legolas hesitated for a moment, not wanting to reveal what his father had done. [They will certainly hear it from Elrond eventually, if not from me,] he realized. [I'd rather they heard it from me.]

"Thranduil held me prisoner for six weeks in a black cell beneath his keep." Legolas was careful to keep his voice even, and to follow the line of discussion dictated by Elrohir. "Forgive my weakness, lords, but the light and the warmth offered by a winter bond with the Lord of Imladris appealed to me more than did remaining in the cell and letting the rats feed while I was still alive enough to feel their bite."

Elladan looked horrified while Elrohir scowled. "And so you come to Imladris unwilling."

"Not unwilling." Legolas kept his eyes on the unsullied snow before him as he rode. "I fully intend to honor the commitment and the alliance. It is your father who has insisted upon altering the details of the agreement."

"Altering, how?"

"I don't feel that I'm at liberty to--"

"He asks that Legolas love him as our mother did not," Elladan inserted softly. "At the very least, he wishes that Legolas should have some affection for him, if not desire to be with him."

"He expects this..." Elrohir said slowly, "from one who is not only a stranger, but a prince of Mirkwood? We both know that, thanks to Thranduil's prejudices, Father's reputation in Mirkwood is... unspeakable."

"Your father has already shown me how invalid such prejudices are," Legolas assured. "He has shown me far more kindness and regard than any from Mirkwood should expect. I would have been contented to bond with Lord Elrond and remain within Imladris's steep walls, had he bid me do so."

"And so he refused you. Why?"

"It is as your brother has said; I am to have some affection for him before he will initiate our bonding. Perhaps he feels that affection will begin with a tour of Imladris's borders. You are lucky in your parentage," he added wisfully. "Even as your father supports your desire to defend your land and its people, Thranduil denied me this very thing. He thinks my skills worthless."

"Worthless?" Elrohir exploded.

Legolas nodded. "He finds in me an unruly prince, unable to tolerate being at court and of no use in his diplomacies. Hence, I was bartered as consort."

"To Lord Elrond, the monster of Imladris." Elrohir fell back in line with Legolas's own mount, the better to stare in disbelief at Legolas. "I begin to see why our father has offered you the freedom to run with us. Have you found the resentments held by Thranduil to be founded?"

"I have not. Your father seems a just and wise ruler. His horses like him."

Elladan snorted at that recommendation of character. "Don't Thranduil's horses like him?"

Legolas shrugged. "The king of Mirkwood does not care for horses on the whole."

The twins exchanged a look as if to say, Well, there you are, there's no hope for Thranduil.

"So your father wishes a son who is a happy lover rather than a warrior?" Elrohir pursued.

"Thranduil couldn't care less about my happiness," Legolas revealed mildly. "He wishes his younger, loathesome son to be of use by finalizing the brokered alliance between Mirkwood and Imladris so that it can never be broken."

"You're nothing but a pawn," Elrohir concluded, "sent miserable and desperate but not in love with Father. Thranduil's even managed to make Father a pawn in this mess."

Legolas nodded. "But that does not mean we are not without some little affection for each other, even in these early days. I will support Elrond any way I can, up to and including finding a way for both of us to squirm out of the trap Thranduil has so effectively laid for both of us."

"You don't call Thranduil Adar, do you?" Elrohir observed.

"The king of Mirkwood betrayed me," Legolas said simply. "I have no father."

"That is... quite a statement," Elladan murmured. Both twins fell silent with that, no doubt contemplating what it would take for them to utter the same pronouncement.

"And so..." Elladan ventured cautiously long seconds later, "you like Lord Elrond and he likes you. That is progess, I suppose."

"Whatever comes, Prince of Mirkwood, it is my hope that you find the peace in Imladris that you cannot in your homeland," Elrohir added.

All things considered, Legolas thought as he sat in the tree and waited for dawn, it was the best he could do, considering his situation. The twins seemed satisfied with the discussion had that first day; after that, they'd treated him as a fellow warrior and stopped questioning him regarding the alliance and their father.

[Things could be much worse,] he thought. [Could still be in that cell.]

Entering Imladris's cavernous library and climbing the Council dias, Glorfindel threw himself so hard into the chair next to Elrond that it rocked sideways on two legs.

"Careful," Elrond murmured. "If you land in the ferns, no one will take your opinions at Council seriously until next season."

"As if I care," the Elf-lord grumbled, jerking at his robes to arrange them properly, and glowering at Elrond. "I'd rather be at the stable."

"So you've said many times."

"I'm glad you have these council gatherings only twice monthly, Elrond. Any more frequently, and I'd be sorely tempted to run away with the twins just to avoid these afternoons. I must admit to a certain curiosity as to why you're sitting up here on your throne all by yourself, staring off into the distance and looking terribly pensive. You're not worrying over about Lego... erm, Lasgalen, are you?"

"I am not worried about him so much as wondering where he is and what he is doing," said Elrond. "He has been gone for three days and is due back in a matter of hours, yet I miss him."

The simple admission earned the Elf-lord a pointed look from Glorfindel, but there was no further opportunity for him to poke at the Lord of Imladris as members of the inner council began filing into the library and onto the dias. Elrond withdrew immediately into his Lord of Imladris mode, while Glorfindel removed to his own chair and schooled his features and his spirit for the long, boring afternoon to come. Sometimes, he felt that it would be glorious if he and Elrond could have run their beloved sanctuary all by themselves.

Glorfindel stifled a yawn as Elrond meandered through the agenda. Winter stores were discussed, how much grain and dried fruits and fodder for the livestock remained after Mirkwood's demands had depleted their supplies. Glorfindel himself updated everyone on the outcome of injuries to Elrond's horses; how many lives had to be ended due to the fire and how many had been spared after their desperate efforts.

"Most will never be whole again," Glorfindel reluctantly shared.

"Does that include the foundation sire, Assassin?"

"He is lucky to be among the living," revealed Elrond. "Without Lasgalen's efforts, Assassin would have joined the others in being sent on."

The elves all murmured various versions of thanks, some grumbling as the Elf in question was, after all, from Mirkwood.

"Do we know yet who set the fire?" someone prodded.

Not yet," Elrond admitted.

"But it was deliberately set?"

"We suspect as much," said Glorfindel. "Lanterns have never been allowed in the stable, Elves have no need for them, and--"

"Then you suspect a Mortal deliberately set the fire?" Istian pounced.

"I never said that."

"You didn't need to, Lord Glorfindel," Istian all but purred. Elrond had long had to deal with this advisor's prejudice against mortals. If Istian had his way, no mortal would ever set foot inside Imladris's borders. "Surely, with the limited number of Men entering our borders, it should be easy to ascertain who the culprit is?"

"Avenues of culpability are being explored," said Elrond. "Let us move on to the next topic for discussion."

Glorfindel knew that Elrond had his own suspicions of how the fire had started - suspicions that could not be voiced in open Council. He himself was exploring, in private and in secret, the very avenues Elrond had mentioned, poking his nose where it shouldn't be and listening at various metaphorical keyholes.

Glorfindel had not failed to notice that Elrond's eyes had grown cold as a winter storm during the discussion of the horrible fate that had befallen some of his horses. Privately, Glorfindel believed that only a Mortal could have deliberately subjected such beauty and nobility to cruel injury and death. [It is my hope,] thought Glorfindel, [that a hellish outer ring is reserved for such murderers wherever mortals go after death.]

If the arsonist was found, he or she would find themselves wishing that anyone in Middle-earth would mete out punishment rather than Glorfindel and the Lord of Imladris.

"Lord Elrond, we would beg to inquire after your alliance with the Prince of Mirkwood," always diplomatic Galutirith introduced the next topic. "We have sent all of the goods that you ordered be sent to King Thranduil, and yet only a scout from his fair kingdom has arrived to acknowledge the pending alliance."

"I'm sure that Prince Legolas will arrive in due course," Elrond soothed. "No doubt he is traveling at this very moment."

[Traveling, indeed,] thought Glorfindel.

"It is a misbegotten betrothal if you ask me," Túrgwaith grumped. His black hair gleamed in the sunlight, a stark contrast to his hard blue eyes. "Already and again this century, Thranduil is taking much and giving nothing back. He usually begins as he intends to continue, and I see nothing of value for Imladris in this depressing alliance. Why you would agree to such a thing, and for eternity, is beyond a great many of us, Lord Elrond."

"You would do well to remember that the Dark Lord's power is strengthening once again, Túrgwaith." Elrond cautioned. "It is imperative that the three kingdoms unite soon, that we face him and his minions as one. A lasting alliance will lay the foundation for us to do this very thing."

"Be that as it may," Galutirith took up the gauntlet, "you are much beloved by those within Imladris and no few without as well. We would never require you to sacrifice all hope of marital happiness by bonding with such an unsuitable candidate."

"How do you know he's unsuitable?" Glorfindel inserted.

"A lasting alliance with a misbegotten son of Mirkwood could bring no one happiness," Túrgwaith spoke as plainly as he ever had. "Nothing we do will ever force Thranduil to support Lothlorian and Imladris. Mark my words, Elrond: your alliance via this prince will matter little should war come again to our borders. Even as happened during the last age at Mount Oraduin, Mirkwood's army will fail. Imladris will be required to defend Thranduil's lands as well as our own, while Celeborn guards Lothlorian as best he can. Thranduil has proven incompetent on the battlefield and unreliable in times of peace. I doubt this young son of Mirkwood can force him to act other than as he has in the past - especially as he is undoubtedly cut from the same cloth as his father - and so what will this new marriage accomplish, except to make you personlly wretched, Elrond Half-Elven?"

Glorfindel noted the informal state of address - insolent and this side of an insult to the Elf-lord who had created Imladris and ruled for centuries with all of the power and commitment within him. Elrond had risen from his chair and took a step forward to meet Túrgwaith's challenge when a new voice rang out from the direction of the library proper.

"The coming alliance between Legolas, Prince of Mirkwood, and the Lord of Imladris will neither be misbegotten or unreliable."

Every head turned to see the golden-haired Elf pacing deliberately up the steps and onto the dias. Storm-filed blue eyes locked into Elrond's own amazed gray as Legolas set aside his bow, shrugged out of his quiver and set it aside. Still covered with the dust of his journey, Legolas came to stand close beside Elrond and lean into him, as one horse will lean into another to offer affection and support.

"Legolas is not like his father," the prince in question stated. "His sense of honor is very much intact, and he has already aligned himself with Lord Elrond, else he would never have agreed to the marriage bond in the first place. If the Dark Lord should attack, Lord Elrond's consort will stand with him in battle and obey his orders in all defense of Imladris."

"Who in the name of Elbereth are you to speak for a prince of Mirkwood?" Túrgwaith demanded.

"Lasgalen is an authorized representative of that realm," Elrond replied, while Glorfindel sat up straighter and took an avid interest in the proceedings. "I trust that Lasgalen speaks the truth, and ask you to listen well to his words."

"What would you tell us of Mirkwood, young scout, that we do not already know?" Istion asked in more gentle tones, but demanding nonetheless. "Surely Thranduil will expect our army to stand with him?"

"A portion of Imladris's army, no doubt," Legolas agreed, "but are there not many years between that probability and necessity? As the years pass, I'm sure that Lord Elrond will give King Thranduil every opportunity to balance the alliance between our kingdoms. The king and his people will no doubt be of domestic service to Imladris long before Imladris must be of military service to Mirkwood."

"So you're saying that if Mirkwood is not willing to uphold its end of the agreement, we may take steps to curb its unwillingness," Elrond inserted.

"Yes, but at the same time I do not think those steps will be necessary. Our Sylvan citizens have little in common with Thranduil."

"Be that as it may," Túrgwaith growled, "what have the simple Elves of Mirkwood to do with upholding any agreement between two ancient and revered houses?"

"We value Imladris's kindness, its support and its influence within our borders. With your Lord Elrond's compassion and consistency, tight bonds of friendship will have been forged between our two people long before military action is required. If this happens, Imladris's warriors might be eager to fight for Mirkwood's preservation, despite whatever shortcomings its king may have."

Túrgwaith considered for a long moment. Exchanging a glance with the other members of the council, he nodded. "We shall see, Lasgalen, beginning with your Prince of Mirkwood. If he doesn't turn out to be a total dolt, Imladris will want to see more of him and others of his ilk from Mirkwood."

"Of course, my lord." Legolas bowed politely, though Glorfindel noted his jaw was locked. Idly, he wondered how much of a strain it was for this young warrior-elf to school his tongue to diplomacy. Aloud Legolas offered, "I am certain Lord Elrond's consort will do all within his power to please you."

Glorfindel didn't think he was the only one hearing the touch of sarcasm tingeing that low, melodic voice. Glancing at Elrond, he saw that the Elf-lord had bowed his head to hide a smile. [He prefers spirited horses,] Glorfindel reflected. [No surprise that he also prefers a spirited mate. They will do well together.]

"It is true that at present Mirkwood has little to offer you in the form of goods," Legolas continued. "It is also true that the people of Mirkwood are somewhat dependent upon the surplus of foodstuffs and other things you send them. I suspect that my homeland will always need you more than you need it if such measurements are made in goods alone. But I beg you to consider that Dol Guldur lies within our borders, with much of our energies taken up with containing that threat. Such efforts have always prevented many of the Dark Lord's shadows from ever reaching Imladris and Lothlorien. Other evils approach our borders as well - orcs and mammoth spiders, wolves and black beasts under the Dark One's command. His strength grows year by year, and Mirkwood experiences it before it spreads to the rest of Middle-earth.

"We do what we can to limit its spread, but we also know our limitations. Those limitations are another reason Thranduil seeks a permanent alliance with you. Your strength is known to us and yes, we seek your protection and assistance in dark times, but we also have much to offer in the way of ongoing defense and intelligence. It is difficult for Mirkwood's king to admit any shortcomings, but I am here to assure you that Legolas does not share this fault with his father. The prince has served many years in the field with both Rangers and Elves, so that he knows Mirkwood's weaknesses firsthand. I am sure such knowledge will prove invaluable. Additionally, I know that Legolas has the interests of all the Eldar at heart, no matter what his father, the king, may intend."

"I also have it on good authority that Legolas is the spy whom Mithrandir sent thrice into Dol Guldur," said Elrond. "His personal intelligence has already proven invaluable."

A disbelieving murmur went up at that news. "Thranduil risked his youngest inside the bastioned walls of Dol Guldur?"

"What was Mithrandir thinking? Only a seasoned warrior could come out of there alive," said Galutirith. "Three hundred summers could not have passed since the young prince's birth."

"Then I would say, no matter his lack of years, this Legolas is a seasoned warrior," said Glorfindel, catching Legolas's eye and offering a grin. "He's probably had to be, if only to stay alive in Mirkwood's forests, never mind within Dol Guldur. Mithrandir chose his spy wisely, I'd say. I trust that our Lord Elrond has chosen his pending partner with equal care."

"I know that Mithrandir, the Rangers, and the guards of Mirkwood tendered have tendered no complaints against his abilities," Legolas said smoothly.

"And our own assessment of his gifts will have to wait until he arrives." Glorfindel nodded. "You speak well of your prince, Lasgalen; he and King Thranduil would be gratified to hear such words."

"So the Rangers like him." Túrgwaith nodded. "That is well, but I hear he's a strange Elf. Always out of bounds, running along the borders. That's not normal for a prince raised at court."

"The prince in question was not raised at court," Legolas said.

Túrgwaith scowled at him. "Explain."

"Legolas's interests lay elsewhere. He has spent very little time at court, away from the conspiracies and machinations inherent within Thranduil's keep. You may therefore consider him both proof and safeguard against Thranduil's future maneuvering."

"We shall see, Lasgalen of Mirkwood. We shall see." Istion nodded and so the discussion ended.

The meeting dispersed soon thereafter, with Elrond's advisors quickly vacating the library and leaving Glorfindel behind with his lord and Legolas.

"I'm impressed, Lasgalen." Getting up to stretch his legs, Glorfindel offered a mock bow. "For a mere scout, you can be quite the diplomat... Temperate, observant, serene at least on the outside, which is more than I can say for a few of your counselors, Elrond."

"Mmmphm," Elrond agreed.

Reclaiming his chair as the discussion had concluded, Elrond was now leaning comfortably back and resting his chin in the palm of his hand. Glorfindel didn't make the mistake of believing the Elf-lord was focused on him; no, Elrond had eyes only for Legolas, who was still standing close at his side and looking every inch the young guardian and protector.

"You can stand down, Legolas," Glorfindel sought to reassure him. "Túrgwaith won't be back today."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Relax your stance," Glorfindel urged, nudging the younger Elf's foot with his boot. "Your weapons are well within reach, and you're standing battle-ready with your weight shifted forward, as if at any moment you might have to grab a knife in defense of Elrond's life."

Blinking, Legolas rocked back and stared at Glorfindel. "I... wasn't aware I was doing that. I hope it wasn't too obvious to the others?"

"No doubt they did," Glorfindel responded.

"No doubt," agreed Elrond. "They're all seasoned warriors, but don't fret; it can't have hurt your argument any to appear as if you were willing to die for me... or at least in conviction of your words."

"I sought only to contradict and perhaps reassure them that my intentions, at least, are somewhat more virtuous than my father's."

"You certainly accomplished that," said Glorfindel. "Had you not, we'd still be arguing Prince Legolas's worth and Túrgwaith's misgivings."

"I did well then?"

"Very well, indeed." Rising to his feet, Elrond impulsively reached out to gather Legolas into a one-armed hug. The moment he did it, the Elf-lord thought he shouldn't, as Glorfindel's scrutiny would undoubtedly make Legolas shy away. Much to Elrond's surprise, Legolas leaned into the embrace.

"My experience in such councils is limited," the younger Elf confessed.

[So many of Legolas's mannerisms and reactions are equine,] Glorfindel realized, watching the exchange. [Is he even aware that he's doing it? And is Elrond aware that he's responding to Legolas with all the mindful affection I've seen him bestow on his beloved young colts?]

"Be assured," said Elrond, "you did very well considering it was your first council meeting and probably not your last."

"Not... my... last." The blue eyes widened at that, and Glorfindel thought Legolas considered bolting from Elrond's embrace, if not from the dias. Still, the young Elf had spirit. Subsiding back against Elrond, he sighed and looked resigned. "I will seek your advice in the future, certainly, on how to address each member in order to avoid their scorn."

"Today, they related to you as a lowly emissar. Their attitudes will become more respectful once your identity is revealed," Elrond pointed out.

Legolas nodded. "Everything will change then. Some for the better, some for the worst, I imagine."

"Fame has its price, after all." Glorfindel grinned. "I should know, after all."

"Don't start that old tale again," Elrond protested. "Weren't you saying earlier how much you wanted to return to the stables?"

"I was, indeed. And I'm not so legendary that I can't recognize a desire to get rid of me when I hear one." He offered a brief bow to Elrond first, then Legolas. "Welcome home, Lasgalen. I trust your journey was safe and swift."

"It was. I'm eager to see some of the horses again, so perhaps I'll see you later in the stables. "

"Assassin will await your visit," Glorfindel said affably before taking his leave of the dias and the library.


	12. Chapter 12

CHAPTER TWELVE

"You must be tired after your journey," Elrond said for the benefit of anyone lurking in the shadows of the library. "Join me upstairs for a rest and something cool to drink."

"As you wish, Lord Elrond."

Gathering Legolas's bow while the Elf took up his quiver and accompanying knives, Elrond led the way down the dias steps. Laying a hand on his companion's shoulder, Elrond guided him across the library and toward the narrow staircase reaching upward to their private chambers.

"I am grateful for your efforts on my behalf," Elrond said once they were out of general earshot.

"Your efforts on my own behalf are of much more consequence than any words I might offer your advisors," Legolas protested quietly, wary lest Erestor or other servants were still listening. "My somewhat childish request for anonymity is the reason why you must keep secrets from there, why you must work to appease my father who knows I have already arrived. Your horses are healed now. My anonymity can only be a selfish desire from this point on."

"It is of no consequence, truly."

"I think it is of greater consequence than you are willing to admit." Willingly following Elrond into his chamber, Legolas set aside his weapons and took the mug of cool tea Elrond offered. An eyebrow arched in question, as if to ask, 'This isn't drugged, is it?'

Elrond answered Legolas's visual query by pouring a mug of his own from the slender vessel and drinking first. [And so we begin speaking on two levels at once, the verbal and the silent,] he thought. [Such is something I can remember doing with no one else. Ever. Two days' freedom seems to have worked a bit of magic; perhaps Legolas is more comfortable alone with me now. Let us see how far this new-found ease with each other extends, shall we?]

"You must appease Thranduil - who knows that I am here - at the cost of mystifying your advisors - who think that I am not." He followed the Elf-lord into his private sleep-chamber.

"And so it appears that Thranduil is receiving much for delivering nothing."

"Yes."

"My advisors agree with you, Legolas." Removing his gold circlet, Elrond placed it safely aside and shrugged out of his formal robes. Much to his amazement, Legolas did not blush or remove to the outer chamber where he might stare at the winter garden rather than at his host. Leaning against the doorframe, Legolas stared out into the winter garden, but remained where he was as Elrond pulled on a pair of leggings and reached for a well-worn, comfortable tunic.

"Then you appear weak before them," said Legolas.

"For a short time, yes." Elrond pulled on his boots.

"You can't enjoy that, and it's my fault the situation exists. I don't want that."

"Legolas..." Coming to stand close to his companion, Elrond reached out to finger a frayed braid. "The matter is resolved for now. Don't let it trouble you further."

Worried blue eyes gazed up at him. Elrond wasn't sure Legolas even noticed his caress. "But--

"But, what?" said Elrond. "I have been Lord of Imladris for a great many years. I would be its king except for the blood of Men which flows in my veins and which sets prejudice against me within my own borders. Do you think Túrgwaith's insinuations this afternoon were the first of my life, much less of my rule?"

Legolas shook his head. "I don't want to be the cause of such insinuations."

"You will be - now and in the future. That is the world of political intrigue within all of Middle-earth," Elrond said firmly. "To wish it were not so is to wish for Elbereth herself to descend from the heavens and kindle compassion and acceptance in every beating heart. We will deal with such prejudices all of our lives - I for my half-elven heritage and you for being Thranduil's son."

"How can you bear their accusations of weakness?"

"The same way you bore my sons' near contempt of your abilities before you answered their physical challenge." Laying a hand on Legolas's shoulder, Elrond found and caressed his collarbone. "We bear the words because they are only words. We know the truth, you and I, and are secure in that truth. It is true that I do not enjoy appearing weak before Túrgwaith and the others, but I would enjoy your unhappiness even less. Truly Legolas, in the final analysis my advisors know not to question or doubt me too far where Mirkwood is concerned. My experience with your father and his kingdom is far more extensive than is theirs. They cannot see all threads, and they cannot tend Imladris as I can tend it. I created this kingdom. I am its proven ruler while they are merely critical."

Running a finger down Legolas's jaw, Elrond continued. "You, my friend, are a prince of Mirkwood, a survivor of Dol Guldur, and an experienced fighter. Today, you bested my council with your sincerity and commitment to me. Never make the mistake of underrating your standing beside me."

"A scout stood beside you today." Legolas shivered slightly when Elrond found the soft skin beneath his earlobe and began stroking in an effort to soothe his vexation. "How much better would it have been had I been able to say - had I the courage to say - 'I am no mere scout. I am Legolas, Prince of Mirkwood, and I am here to... to....'" Legolas gestured in irritation. "I don't know what I was there to do."

"You were there to stand with me and commit to Imladris. You spoke plainly and told them where your loyalties lie. The words had no less of an impact because you spoke them as a citizen of Mirkwood rather than as a prince come to bond with me."

Sliding his fingers beneath the golden curtain of hair, Elrond rested the palm of his hand at the base of Legolas's neck. "Never doubt that my council will remember, or that you will be held to your words. I was surprised at your entrance - not to mention your defense. And now, if you are not too tired from your journey, perhaps you would like to accompany me to the stable and see if Assassin will carry you again?"

"Carry... me? But he is your stallion."

"He is mine." Elrond nodded. "But I need to ascertain the strength of his healing, which I'd prefer to do by watching rather than being carried by him. And so, if he will allow it, will you consent to ride him for me?"

"I... I...YES!" Seeming to lose all words, Legolas offered Elrond a delighted grin with two dimples, which made the Elf-lord laugh out loud.

"If you were a cat, I believe you'd be wriggling with pleasure," Elrond observed.

"I *am* wriggling with pleasure."

"I see. Well then, let's be off." Pushing past Legolas, Elrond exited the chamber, obviously expecting Legolas to follow in his wake.

Reaching for his ever-present weaponry, Legolas took the time to wriggle back into his quiver and slung the bow over his shoulder before running from Elrond's chambers to catch up with him on the way to the stables.

Not waiting for Legolas, Elrond latched the gate behind himself and headed for the new-built stables. Hearing the sound of someone trotting up behind him, the Elf-lord turned in time to see Legolas leap lighitly over the fence. Within a few seconds, the younger Elf was striding at his side and not winded in the slightest with his efforts.

[Well-healed, indeed,] the ever-present healer within Elrond observed. [Would that Assassin could be as recovered.] Aloud he said, "I have a question, if I may? Two, actually."

"I will answer if I can," Legolas said.

"First of all, why do you bring your weapons to my stable?"

Blue eyes made more blue by winter sun peeking from the clouds glanced up at him. "I bring merely bow and knife to your stable. I am the weapon, my lord."

"You're being evasive, assassin-mine."

"Assassin?" Legolas looked startled. "No. That name must be reserved for the beautiful creature within your stable. I merely protect those I care for. The tools of protection that I carry are as much a part of me as teeth and hooves are part of your stallion. I never leave them behind."

Elrond shook his head. "I hardly think such tools are necessary within Imladris. Then again, perhaps I would do well to remember why we must test the strength of my foundation sire this day."

"I know that you wish it otherwise, my lord."

"Yes." The two fell silent for a long moment while traveling a snowy path plowed earlier by other Elven feet before Elrond pursued, "How is it you came to be here this afternoon?"

"I wasn't expecting your return until tomorrow."

"The Rangers found your sons a day early," said Legolas, "As I am known to them, I thought it best to return home."

"The twins headed north then, toward Lothlorian?"

"So they said."

Elrond nodded. "They will probably retrieve Mithrandir and my daughter and return home."

"Elrond..." Hesitating as stable was reached, Legolas snagged the Elf-lord's sleeve. "In the two days I was out with your sons, I learned how safe your lands are. How secure and how much a haven to animal and Eldar. Such sanctuary lulls those living within its bounds, but you and the White Council will soon have need of further intelligence from Dol Guldur."

Turning on the path, Elrond gave Legolas his full attention. "Legolas--"

"Hear me out, please, m'lord." Desperate blue eyes locked into his. "No one left within Mirkwood has the knowledge or experience to travel inside the Dark Lord's borders and return unscathed. I know our warriors. Some were my teachers, others my friends. I would not have them die because I was not there to do what I know I can do. What I have done before. I ask you now, Elrond... please... When the time comes, I know the wizard's habits and his needs. Let me go with him when he goes, so that I might serve you as well as those I've left behind in Mirkwood."

"Your father--"

"Thranduil need never know. A slinking trip within, a slinking trip back out, that's all it would take. It would risk no one."

"Only you." Elrond smoothed down the golden mane that was covered with snowflakes. "I cannot allow this, Legolas. I am sorry, but even if Mithrandir asks it, you cannot go back into Dol Guldur."

The words came as softly as eiderdown, seductive as only the Elf-lord's could be when he wished to compel another to his bidding. "I missed you while you were gone, Legolas, and find that you are a part of me now, as dear to me as others whom I love."

"I missed you as well." The words were all but lost on the wind, but Elrond still caught the sound. Legolas's blue eyes softened beneath Elrond's admission, and it seemed he would succumb to the power and protection inherent in the Elf-lord standing before him. In the next moment, however, the softness was replaced with a look of hard resolve. Shivering slightly, and stepping away from the Elf-lord's touch, Legolas all but growled, "If you were me, Elrond, what would you do?"

"If I were you, I would... go to Dol Guldur with or without permission." The words seemed torn from Elrond, his voice rasping as harshly as Legolas's own had after the smoke had damaged his lungs.

Catching Legolas's left hand, the Elf-lord turned it so that the white brand of the House of Elrond caught the fading light. "So beautiful," he murmured, "and so free."

Snowflakes melted against the heat of Legolas's palm while the Elf-lord traced the hard, tight features of the seal.

"Would that this could hold you here, with or against your will," he murmured. "All of my wishing will not make it so. I could make it so... but must not." Laying his own palm against Legolas's and entwining his fingers, Elrond took a shuddering breath.

"You must not... what?" Legolas said warily. His long-knives were at his back, but he would not use them against Elrond, nor against any other Elf, but there were other means of escape at his disposal. Never again would Legolas allow himself to be trapped or held prisoner by anyone. Tensing slightly in case he'd misread or been deceived by Elrond's previous intentions, and missing the happiness he'd felt only moments before when Elrond had offered to let him ride Assassin, Legolas prepared to flee the Elf-lord's presence.

"What do you mean, you *must* not?" Legolas repeated.

Elrond's smile was harsh. "I have the power and the means to hold you here and safe, Legolas. I have only to command it, and you will never again set foot outside the walls of the Last Homely House, much less journey beyond Imladris's borders."

"How?"

Moving behind the Elf, Elrond slid his arm across Legolas's hips. Ignoring the rattle of arrows and the unyielding hard leather of the quiver, he pulled the lithe body against his broad chest. Lowering his head, he whispered into Legolas's ear. "You would obey me, not because of any iron chains wrapped around your legs, but because of more powerful chains wrapped around your will."

Elrond did not move, did not gesture in the slightest, but Legolas felt an explosive power hovering just behind his words. The air shimmered between them as if some unseen force were billowing outward to enclose and isolate the two of them. It waited on the edge of breath for Elrond to command it, to imprison Legolas more completely than any dungeon cell beneath Mirkwood could ever do. The arm around his waist tightened, and Legolas's vision darkened slightly.

"I rule Imladris, and I can rule you," came the whisper, more felt in his mind than heard by his ears.

Tearing at the arm holding him, Legolas growled to find it immovable. The last rays of the fading light of day chose that moment to peer so brightly out from two clouds at the edge of the cliffs guarding Imladris that Legolas's eyes watered. Blinking hard, he cleared his vision only to find that Elrond was standing calmly before him rather than holding him from behind. Furthermore, his hand was still in the Elf-lord's own, and Elrond was idly tracing circles within Legolas's scarred palm.

Snatching his hand from Elrond's, Legolas stared up at him in near-fear. Haunted gray eyes held his, and Elrond offered a sad smile.

"Beauty such as yours can never be caged or it will die," said Elrond. "You may well still die outside of the cage, Legolas. If so, at least you will have lived on your own terms, unfettered and free." Straightening to his full height, Elrond concluded, "You will take Glorfindel with you when you to into Dol Guldur. I suggest that you teach him all you know then, so that in the future he can go in your stead. And now, I believe Assassin awaits your pleasure. Or your torment."


	13. Chapter 13

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

The sun disappeared back behind the clouds to wrap Imladris in a dull gray chill that matched Legolas's ruined mood all too well. Yes, Elrond would allow him to go to Dul Goldur, but the Elf-lord had made it unbearably clear that Legolas would go only because Elrond allowed it.

Feeling anger and panic boil within him, Legolas reflected, [For all of his kindnesses, I should have known that I've only exchanged one prison for another. Can he not understand that I *must* go to Dul Goldur, else another will be sent in my stead to die? I thought him as concerned with Mirkwood as he is with Imladris. Instead I discover that, like my father, Lord Elrond's greatest interest is in controlling where I go and why. Very well,] he concluded, feeling morose, [I should have expected it. Rule me as you will.]

Legolas followed two paces behind Elrond with his head still held high, but with an emotional distance between them that he'd not felt since the early hours of their growing friendship. The older Elf's mood had also clearly shifted, and Legolas knew better than to attempt any continuation of their most recent discussion; from all appearances, Elrond would probably exhibit little patience with his intended bondmate's mood.

Unlatching the gate leading to the field just outside the new stable, Elrond strode through without bothering to look behind. He had no doubt that Legolas would latch the gate. [However much he may resent my involvement in his life,] Elrond reflected, [he will not risk harm to the horses.]

They were in time to see Glorfindel swing back the stable door.

"Lord Elrond, Lasgalen!" He hailed them with as much enthusiasm as ever, which made Legolas instantly wary. "It's good to see you, you're just in time."

"In time for what?" Elrond all but growled. "I am here to see Assassin."

"You may want to stand aside." Coming up to stand beside Elrond and Legolas, Glorfindel laughed at the four grooms only just emerging from the stable aisle and into the weak winter light. Assassin danced between them, anchored by two Elves on each side who held lead shanks and shrank as far away from the stallion as was Elvenly possibly.

"If you're away from the teeth," Glorfindel murmured, "they can't bite you."

"But their safety depends upon one another," Legolas observed, flanking Glorfindel, "because if either one lets go--"

"Death or dismemberment awaits," Glorfindel said cheerily.

"The horse is not dangerous, and the two of you are vastly overrating the danger of the situation," Elrond asserted.

"Of course we are." Glorfindel winked at Legolas.

Ears back and shaking his head, Assassin cut shapes, danced and blew. Bouncing out of the stable, he leaned and strained a shank, sidled one way and then the other to make both elves skitter along beside him. He paused long enough to indulge in a bit of rearing and head shaking, yanking his escorts about only to suddenly subside to their efforts to stop his forward motion and snorted loudly.

"There, you see? It's all show," protested Elrond, standing with hands on hips. "He's having fun terrorizing them while they lead him out. He's just been confined for too long."

"Oh, yes. Gentle as a kitten is that one," Glorfindel agreed.

Elrond whistled softly and Assassin's head shot up. Ears pricked forward, he stared at his master and settled instantly. Pacing docilely forward to close the distance between them, the horse shoved his muzzle into the hand Elrond offered, which left the elves leading him standing foolishly to either side and holding the slack leads in white-knuckled hands. Elrodn stroked the long neck, and Legolas thought that he caught a glance of relief shared between the nearest elves, but couldn't be certain.

"Glorfindel, we need to assess my stallion's well-being. We'll begin with his breathing: is all of his snorting merely for fun, or is he still subject to respiratory obstructions?" Turning to Legolas, Elrond continued, "I want you to place your hands just so--" he demonstrated, miming cupping his hands over the stallion's nostrils while standing before Assassin, but not actually touching the horse's face, "while Glorfindel and I listen to his lungs."

[You want me to stand here and hold my hands over this stallion's nostrils so that he can't breathe which is guaranteed to annoy him horribly,] Legolas thought. [Leave me in line for death, why don't you?]

The four elven grooms took the opportunity to drop their shanks and back away slowly when Legolas moved to stand directly in front of the stallion to do as Elrond had requested.

Taking up their positions at Assassin's flanks, Elrond and Glorfindel laid their arms over the stallion's back and leaned down to listen at his chest wall. Giving an inward sigh, Legolas placed his hands as Elrond had dictated he should. [There's really other way to find out, but I'd rather be a listening elf than one irritating this beast.]

Assassin eyed him with open suspicion but stood quietly enough as Legolas covered his nose. [No doubt because your lord and master is standing right there.] Seconds later, Assassin shook his head as he discovered he couldn't breathe. Legolas didn't let go.

"If you and I do this right," he murmured, "we'll only have to do it once."

He held on as long as he dared, letting go only when the stallion's gaze hardened and he threw his head upward violently, easily getting his nostrils out of range over Legolas's head. Startled, the stallion took a deep breath and then another.

Closing his eyes, Elrond listened to his horse's lungs and eventually straightened. Doing the same on the stallion's other side, Glorfindel observed, "I can't hear any crackling, wheezing or gurgling. Can you?"

"There's still a bit of crackling over here," said Elrond. "Not much, but some."

"I didn't hear any. Best we do that again."

The two elf-lords looked up to where Legolas and Assassin were glaring at each other.

"Would you please cover his nose again?"

Legolas looked from Elrond's hard gaze to the stallion's blazing glare and decided that the horse was the better to disobey at this point. Cupping his long fingers, Legolas moved them toward the horse's muzzle, only to have the head meet him halfway with teeth bared. Only a quick step backward prevented those teeth from finding their target. As it was, the sharp click left no doubt as to the sincerity of Assasssin's effort.

"Legolas, if you're through playing with him, we're waiting," Elrond prompted.

Sighing, the younger elf startled the stallion by grabbing a lead shank. Pulling it taut, Legolas stood on it. Momentarily perplexed, the stallion allowed the elf the moment of opportunity he needed to clamp his hands over the delicate nostrils once more. Assassint seemed to swell in anger before whipping his head sideways and sending the rope whistling out from under Legolas's boot. Rearing, the stallion struck at the elf, who leaped backward out of reach of those flashing hooves.

"That wasn't exactly satisfactory, but I still maintain I heard no crackles," Glorfindel stated firmly to Elrond, who didn't seem to have noticed the opening attack. "I think Assassin's doing quite well, all things considered."

"I think I heard something still, but if I did it is small. Let's see how he handles stressing his breathing. It's obvious he's feeling well enough to tolerate some exercise." Taking off the halter, Elrond threw it and the cumbersome lead shanks aside. "Lasgalen, get up and take him around, won't you?"

Assassin was still staring at Legolas, with a look filled with smoldering fury over the rude handling he'd just endured. 'Stay off,' said the animosity in that gaze.

"My lord, it might be better if you--"

"Get up on him," Elrond reiterated. "He won't do anything."

"He doesn't want me up there," Legolas dared. "He's yours. Only you can ride him."

"You've already ridden him once, and I'm asking him to carry you again."

"My Lord Elrond--"

"Get up there!" Elrond growled, fingers closing in irritation on a handful of mane and glowering at Legolas every bit as strongly as was Assassin himself. Glorfindel watched the exchange in gleeful silence from across the horse's back, as did the grooms hovering nearby.

"Yes, my lord," Legolas said obediently, obviously not meaning it.

"Sullen rider, sullen horse," Glorfindel observed quietly.

"Hush," admonished Elrond.

"Sullen horse owner, too," Glorfindel managed to get in the dig as Legolas came up beside him. The older Elf-lord made way with a slight bow.

Assassin had his own opinions of the situation. Left with an empty field and no one standing in his way any longer - not to mention an unwelcome stranger clearly preparing to mount - the stallion walked out. Once clear of the startled grop of elves who had leaned and poked and grabbed his nose, Assassin moved into an easy trot.

"Catch him."

"He's your horse, you catch him," Glorfindel counter-ordered

Growling softly in exasperation, Elrond whistled again. With head high and tail streaming out behind him, Assassin trotted a wide circle around the small group before turning and walking s-l-o-w-l-y, majestically in to stand quietly at his owner's shoulder.

[He has as much arrogance as the Elrond himself,] Legolas observed, keeping his expression carefully schooled to impassivity.

"Want some treats to keep him anchored?" asked Glorfindel.

"I do not. It's quite unnecessary." Elrond stood with a hand cradling Assassin's chin. "Lasgalen, mount him now. Sooner started, sooner done."

The grooms, Legolas noted, had retrieved the discarded tack and retreated safely to the far side of the fence beside the stable. 'Lasgalen is a good volunteer,' Legolas could see them thinking. 'Eat him. Better him than one of us.' Whether the stallion or Elrond himself would be the first to take out a chunk of this volunteered rider was subject to debate.

It also appeared that their raised voices were drawing a new audience as additional grooms and other servants wandered up to the paddock to find out what was going on. The impertinent scout from Mirkwood was arguing with Lord Elrond who wasn't sounding like a complacent ruler. Legolas could see the arched eyebrows, shocked looks, and wagging tongues from where he stood beside Assassin. Elves loved gossip, but this wasn't gossip; this was here and now and being played out before them, much to their great delight.

"We have a defiant elf?"

"Not only that, we have a defiant elf who has been ordered to ride Elrond's fearsome foundation sire."

"Ooooh, the show will be good, care to place a bet on the outcome?"

"I think the term 'riding' is highly optimistic. Wonder how long he'll last before he meets the grass?"

Heads were coning together, wagers were being placed, and Legolas was well aware of it all. Turning away from the gleeful audience behind him, he squared his shoulders and faced his foes.

"As you wish, Lord Elrond."

Legolas vaulted easily onto the stallion, only to see Assassin's ears go back and his neck arch. The back muscles beneath the elf tightened while Assassin's hind feet advanced two steps under his body.

[He's balancing to rear,] Legolas knew. Weaving both hands into the mane, he tried to sit up straight and looked down at Elrond, who still stood at the stallion's head.

"What do you want us to do?"

He got The Look for that, the one that said, 'You know damned well what I want you to do.' When the Elf-lord spoke, his low voice held a distinct warning for all its seeming patience.

"Track left and circle around us, please. I require two circles at a trot, two at a canter. I wish you to then change directions and do it again. Then return immediately to me."

Nodding, Legolas walked the stallion out in a generous circle around Elrond and Glorfindel. Glancing over, he dind't bother to mask his sullenness. [Assassin isn't and Elrond isn't, so why should I?] "Is this what you want, Lord Elrond?" he said cordially. "Is the diameter correct?"

He was rewarded with an imperious nod from Elrond and an outright grin from Glorfindel. Elrond waved his hand. "Send him on."

Legolas's first request to move into a trot got pinned ears and much tail swishing, but not much else.

[I'm losing patience with this myself,] the elf thought, well aware of the many eyes on him now. Daring to try a small, growly go-on, Legolas nudged gently with his knees and braced for the worst.

Assassin startled him by actually picking up to a trot in a long, lofty stride while maintaining the circle around Glorfindel and his master. Pleased despite his precarious situation, Legolas startled the horse into a canter, so that Assassin glided out in a long, flowing thing of grace before he could actually think about it.

[This isn't bad,] Legolas thought. [I'm not dying. And oh, he's lovely to ride.]

That was before the stallion's nose started sneaking toward the ground to signal, 'I'm going to buck.'

[You will not.] Yanking the mane, Legolas dropped back his weight and booted the stallion in his elbow. [Tampa! Stop that!]

Shaking his head, the stallion cantered sideways. *bounce* *bounce* *bounce*

[Tampa!] Legolas ordered again.

"Very good," Elrond called. "Change directions, please."

Legolas swore softly to himself to realize that he'd entirely forgotten the Lord of Imladris. Feeling somewhat sheepish to have become lost in a world of his own with the horse, Legolas guided Assassin directly across the circle to take them directly past Elrond and Glorfindel. Tracking closer, Assassin deliberately tried to shoulder Glorfindel on the way by. The elf from Gondolin leaped backward.

"Amin hiraetha," Legolas called an apology over his shoulder, "but what can I do?"

Glorfindel laughed and called back. "N'deta no'ta, don't worry about it. I saw you coming."

A snort from Legolas. A snort from the stallion who tried to lengthen his stride. Building up beneath Legolas, he began moving faster and faster. The elf decided to let him.

"I said two circles only," Elrond called after they'd completed five.

Gritting his teeth, Legolas stiffened his back, dropped back his weight, and closed his legs. Assassin ignored him. Legolas asked again. And again. Rather than slow his gait, the stallion's strides grew longer and faster with each moment to move from the quiet canter requested into a tail-flagging gallop in spite of all his rider could do to dissuade him. Legolas could almost feel the horse laughing at him.

[Fine.] He directed Assassin toward the nearest fence, with the intent to have him obey the barrier if he wouldn't obey his rider.

The long neck stretched, the muscles beneath Legolas bunched in anticipation. 'I'll jump it.'

Careful not to lean forward lest the horse stop abruptly and launch Legolas over his head, the elf whispered into the alert ears, "Elrond is waiting."

Reaching the fence, Assassin rolled smoothly back over his hocks. Switching directions in less than a heartbeat, he trotted serenely back to Elrond. It was then that Legolas noticed the blowing. The coughing began next -- a deep, rattling thing with the stallion dropping his head to his knees with each one.

Glancing at Elrond as they passed close by once more, Legolas asked, "Should we stop now?"

"Yes, I believe so."

Legolas halted the horse mere feet from Elrond, who patted his horse on the neck.

"I told you he'd be no trouble!" Elrond snapped before joining Glorfindel once more in listening to the horse's lungs.

Listening was an easier proposition this time, as much of Assassin's fight seemed to have been burned away by his short tear-away across the field. Pointed ears pressed against his ribs, and the two elven lords listened as the air whistled in and out of his lungs. A more sober look was exchanged between Glorfindel and Elrond as they stepped back to watch Assassin for a moment as he coughed and snorted.

The coughing fit finally eased, with Glorfindel circling Assassin to stand with Elrond.

"He still has enough wind to be comfortable," Glorfindel ventured, "but there's also enough damage that he cannot be used on any sort of a journey."

"I agree." Elrond's eyes filled with sadness at the damage his foundation sire would likely carry for the rest of his days.

The horse, however, was still filled with pride and temper and dislike at being poked and prodded in such a rude and familiar manner. Stomping, Assassin turned his head to snap at Legolas's foot, which the elf jerked away just as Elrond looked back.

"Return him to his stall, please." Turning away once again to wander a few paces with Glorfindel, Elrond said, "Assassin can be bred but little else, I think. The season is coming, what do you think of simply turning him out with the mares?"

Legolas obediently turned the horse toward the stable and nudged him into motion as the stallion no longer seemed so inclined to move out. Assassin walked sullenly, reluctantly, with ears pinned and gave one swift snap at his rider's foot once more. He was cooperative, but only marginally so, and he was letting Legolas know all about his current resentments.

The minute his master's back was turned, however, resentment turned into action as Assassin braced his hind feet, stiffened his back, and gave one almost stationery buck. Legolas, who had relaxed and was eavesdropping on the two elves' conversation, found that still having his hands buried in the horse's mane did little to save him when he wasn't anticipating the move.

The elf was tossed forward without warning to sail over the horse's shoulder. Only his hands in the mane changed the direction of Legolas's flight and allowed him to land squarely on his feet, startled to find himself eye to eye with the irritable beast.

The stallion glared at Legolas, who glared right back.

"Fine, my lord stallion," Legolas hissed softly to the horse. "Do as you will. It was never my wish to ride you, so I'll leave you to your mares and to your master. Our master."

Turning, Legolas stomped off. Behind him, Glorfindel sniggered softly.

Elrond spun around to see Legolas head off across the field while Assassin took two hesitant, almost bewildered steps to follow him. The horse stopped almost immediately, head held high while he regarded the retreating elf. Snorting loudly, Assassin whirled and trotted off to flirt at the fence with a group of mares come to watch his magnificence.

[It's too early, big one,] they seemed to say, milling around and wandering off as they lost interest. [We still have babies, you must talk to us after they're born. Yes, we know who you are and you're a fine stallion, but it's far too early...]

"I thought I told Lasgalen to take my horse into the stable," Elrond commented irritably and staring after Legolas much as had Assassin. "Where is he off to, and why has he just left Assassin that way?"

"Your stallion had other ideas, Elrond."

Elrond shook his head. "Assassin is weary and needs to go inside. I thought Lasgalen to be more reliable with horses than that."

A gesture from the Lord of Imladris, and two of the grooms stepped forward with evident reluctance, though whether to face the ill-tempered horse or his equally ill-tempered master was not clear.

"My lord?" one elf questioned respectfully.

"Catch Assassin, take him back," he ordered, flicking one hand toward the strutting stallion. Fully expecting the order to be obeyed, Elrond turned to follow Legolas.

Glorfindel stopped him with a hand on his arm. "You are feeling cruel today, aren't you?"

"What do you mean?"

"You just told those grooms to go and catch your stallion."

"Yes. I did. What of it? It's their job."

"These poor, inferior beings are to drag the Magnificent One away from his mares and not kill themselves in the process?"

Elrond looked back to see that not one groom had moved away from the fence. "My horse is not dangerous!"

"Go catch your own horse, Elrond," Glorfindel admonished. "You know where your other young stallion will be, so you can catch him later. Unlike Assassin, Lasgalen isn't likely to kill anyone other than yourself who lays hands on him."

Drawing himself up to his full height, Elrond rocked back and stared down his nose at his friend and most trusted advisor. Whistling softly, Elrond was still staring at Glorfindel when Assassin trotted willingly away from the fence and over to him.

"I don't see any problem," Elrond murmured, retrieving the halter and a single lead shank from the groom who dared to answer the elf-lord's unspoken order when Elrond held out his hand.

"That is too disgusting," said Glorfindel.

Slipping on the halter, Elrond handed the shank to Glorfindel. "There you are. If you are so worried as to the welfare of our grooms, you can take Assassin in yourself."

Glorfindel gingerly took the shank in time for Assassin to wipe horse-snot up his arm. Sighing, he said, "You really should have named this one Balrog. Come on, evil one. There's feed and hay waiting in your stall."

One of the grooms appeared in the doorway to the stable, shaking a bucket that was sure to contain grain. Predictably, Assassin's ears flicked forward and his stride lengthened as he headed toward the unexpected meal being so generously offered inside.

[That groom must like Glorfindel,] Elrond noted.

Elrond watched as his friend led the horse off and smiled to see that the lead shank was always slack.

"You know," said Glorfindel, daring to throw a companionable arm across the horse's withers, "It's not often anyone is always one step ahead of me. Still, you seem to manage it."

Elrond had the wisdom to wait until horse and elf-lord had disappeared inside the barn before heading with all haste after Legolas who had already disappeared from the field for parts unknown.


	14. Chapter 14

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

The last candle in the library of Imladris sputtered out behind the Elf-lord, wrapping him darkness, but Elrond paid it no heed. He'd spent half of the day searching for the elf he wished to see, yet Legolas was far out of reach this night. Scowling into the shadows, Elrond had the unpleasant realization that his Prince of Mirkwood could well have been watching and laughing silently over Elrond's failure to locate him.

[That thought improves my mood not at all,] Elrond snarled to himself.

Abandoning the search in the early evening, Elrond had waited for Legolas to appear at evening meal, but the elf apparently had other plans. [He'd rather starve than encounter me, obviously.] Long fingers dug into the wooden arms of his chair, and Elrond slouched even lower. [Why does this not surprise me?]

Elrond could have ordered his guard to search for the elf in question. He could have ordered, 'Find Lasgalen but do not disturb him. Bring word to me of where he is.' Eventually Legolas would have been found, but Elrond's pride would not allow such a thing. More than that, the searchers could not have passed unnoticed by so skilled a warrior, no matter how hard they might try. Hard on the heels of that realization came the knowledge that to set his guards on Legolas would have been to damage the friendship that had begun between them.

[My prince wishes to be alone, so alone he shall be until he deems otherwise,] Elrond reflected, rubbing the bridge of his nose. [He has had enough of jailers, and I refuse to be considered yet another.]

Stiff muscles protested as he rose from the chair. Pacing to a small table, he poured a goblet of wine and moved to the balcony, but the wine remaining untasted and all but forgotten in his hand while his gaze searched the darkness once more. The night air was still and snow was once again falling in huge flakes over Imladris. Beautiful, or it would have been had Elrond's elf not preferred to linger somewhere in that cold.

Hearing soft footfalls on the hardwood floor of the library behind him, Elrond didn't bother to turn, for it was Glorfindel come to join him rather than the Mirkwood elf he would have welcomed.

"Another storm is upon us," the legendary warrior of Gondolin began, helping himself to some wine. "I believe I've seen more snow and ice upon our fair fields since Legolas came than I have in all the years since I returned to Middle-earth."

Coming to join Elrond at the railing, Glorfindel eyed the first finger of the Elf-lord's right hand: regardless no ring of power was visible, the older elf knew it was there. "In the past you delighted in using Vilya's power to make mild Imladris's weather," he murmured, "an effort those of cold toes applauded, I might add. Have you forgotten how to do that?"

Elrond spared Glorfindel an annoyed glance before turning back to the snowflakes. "I have been somewhat distracted as of late."

"Distracted, is it?"

"Yes. Distracted. With the fire and the horses and completing communications with Thranduil. Those things have taken a great deal of my attention, there's hardly been a moment for me to concentrate on what the clouds and the snow are doing."

"I see," came the reply. Setting his goblet upon the balcony railing, Glorfindel put out an arm to catch snowflakes upon his wrist and watch them melt. "Amazing, isn't it, how frosted ice will reveal that no two of these are alike? What a marvelous world we live in, when the Iluvatar has created each of us -- even Lords of Imladris and Princes of Mirkwood -- as unique as snowflakes."

Grey eyes narrowed, and Elrond rounded on his friend. "I have no patience tonight for riddles. What exactly are you trying to say to me?"

"Nothing," the Elf-lord said mildly, "except that your quest to catch the fair snowflake following you about lately seems to have proven fruitless."

"Legolas is hardly a delicate snowflake. And he does not wish to be found."

"Again? Elusive soul, isn't he? And why might he prefer the snow and wind to your company tonight? I thought you were coming to quite enjoy each other's company."

"Our last private conversation was a bit unpleasant."

"Unpleasant?" Glorfindel prodded. Snowflakes peppered his hair now, were doing the same to Elrond's. "That's an interesting word to choose. It's not because Assassin tipped him on the ground today is it?"

"No, nothing so petty as that." Frowning, Elrond watched a flake land in his wine where it floated for a moment before vanishing.

"Then what manner of conversation could send him off into the shadows? Legolas does not strike me as the sort to flounce off, offended over trifles as would Arwen, so there must be more to tell, yes?"

"He wishes to journey into Dol Guldur, while I wish him to remain safe here," Elrond explained. "We had a clash of wills before meeting you to work with Assassin."

"There is some distance between those two courses of action," Glorfindel agreed. "How was this clash of wills resolved?"

"I demonstrated to Legolas that while I had the power to keep him safe at home in Imladris, I would send him to the Dark Lord's stronghold as he wished, with the caveat that he be accompanied by yourself, Mithrandir and my sons. Legolas is to teach you exactly how he sneaks in and out of that place, and you will take this task from this point onward. I will not risk my elf by letting him go another time."

"Your elf is he now?" Glorfindel nodded sagely. "Risking me seems a reasonable enough compromise. I do thank you for including me in this exciting little journey. When were you going to share this news with me?"

Grasping the railing so hard that the whites of his knuckles showed, Elrond glanced across at Glorfindel. Uncertain whether sincerity or sarcasm ruled his friend's last remark, Elrond decided that he didn't care either way and returned to scowling at the night. "I would think it a reasonable compromise, but Legolas appears to think otherwise. I set certain conditions upon his going, and now he's behaving like a youngling defying his father, every inch the nasty little prince we'd dreaded receiving originally, locked in the sulks and avoiding me. This is our first clash of wills, I think."

Glorfindel leaned back against the railing and grinned. "Yes, but who's winning?"

Straightening, Elrond snapped, "Legolas will yield to me as did Assassin, or he will suffer the consequences. Better that he find out this now, rather than after we bond."

"The consequences?" Glorfindel pounced upon the word, clearly intrigued. "So there are to be consequences now?"

"He is, after all, very young," said Elrond, ignoring his companion. "Not immature precisely, but very young."

"What consequences did you threaten, Elrond?"

"Hmm? What?"

"You said that your beautiful elf will yield to you or suffer the consequences. What consequences might those be, other than his depriving you of his company and obviously upsetting you? And may I remind you that Assassin has yet to yield to you unless by his own choice?"

"Legolas will yield," Elrond insisted. "It is for his protection that I do this."

"I know your temper, Peredhil," Glorfindel goaded. "What did you threaten?"

"I reminded Legolas that I had only to command it, and he would never set foot outside this house, much less journey beyond Imladris's borders. What's more, he wouldn't want to."

"So you threatened to control him not only physically, but mentally?"

"I didn't threaten, precisely--"

"You just said that you did."

"A poor choice of words. I made it clear that should I wish it, I had the power to do so."

"Sounds like a threat to me." Giving a sigh, Glorfindel stepped closer to Elrond. "Surely you know that threats won't work on one as spirited and intelligent as your prince from Mirkwood? Not only that, if Legolas is near enough to hear our words this night, your continued fierceness will not convince him it's time to come home." Laying a hand on the Elf-lord's shoulder, Glorfindel urged, "Don't make this more than it is, Elrond. You're both sulking, that's all."

"*Legolas* is sulking. I am being perfectly reasonable. And you are melting the snow on my shoulder."

Glorfindel chuckled as he batted at the snow still clinging to Elrond's robes. "As I am much older than either of you, I think you are a very young elf as well, my lord, for you sit sulking in your library rather than hiding out in the storm. That is the only difference I can between your behavior and Legolas's."

Elrond drew his eyebrows together over a truly fierce glare. "I am not sulking," he growled.

Glorfindel laughed outright, which only made the Lord of Imladris glower all the harder. "Whatever happened between you and Legolas, both of you met me today all mood and crunch. The grooms were reluctant to come out as much due to your temper as Assassin's." He shook his head. "The rest of Imladris may be used to your bluster and stormy moods, but Legolas is not. Everyone else says 'yes-my-lord' and knows to get out of your way when you're like this, that the mood will pass in its own time with no one the worse for it. It's not that we agree with you, Elrond, we relocate so as not to become targets. That is precisely what Legolas has done, though I don't think he understands that you aren't a serious menace. Can't say that I blame him for staying away, actually. There's no reasoning with you when you're like this."

Staring stonily at Glorfindel, Elrond visibly pondered the older elf's words. Shoulders sagging in the next moment, his gaze grew worried. "As ever, you speak the truth. My mood softened immediately after I left you and Assassin, but an afternoon of not finding Legolas has brought back my...crunchiness, I think you would call it."

Looking down at the snow accumulating on the balcony at his feet, he scuffed at the icy matter with his toe. "I would call him back inside if I could and try to explain myself more clearly, but I have given up trying to locate him."

"If you would just sit down and thing for a moment, put yourself in his position, you'd know where to find him," Glorfindel admonished. "He's a wood-elf, remember? But even if you do locate him, I'd advise against trying to talk to him if you're just going to threaten him again with imprisonment."

Elrond nodded. "I'm little better than his father if I do that."

"What?"

"Never mind," Elrond hedged, not wanting anyone else to know of Thranduil's betrayal. "And so, Glorfindel, where do you think I would be if I were a wood-elf desiring to evade me on a stormy winter's night?"

Glorfindel grinned before heading back inside the library. "Were it me, I'd be looking for the warmest tree in Imladris tonight."

* * *

The old oak tree was huge, set against the cliff wall behind the burned-out stable on the furthermost edge of Imladris. It offered comfort and cradling to the Mirkwood elf hiding in its heart, surrounded by silence that was marred only by the hissing of snow falling around them. Both comfort and silence were shattered when Legolas heard someone coming at him through the surrounding forest, muffled footsteps squeaking in the new-fallen snow. Sitting up, he peered between snow-laden branches to see the Lord of Imladris come to stand at the base of the tree and stare straight up at him.

Legolas's immediate instinct was to shrink back, but Elrond had already seen him so that cowering back against the tree was undignified as well as pointless. He expected to be ordered down immediately, to face another lecture which would no doubt include another refusal to be allowed to go to Dol Guldur. No doubt he would be hauled back to Elrond's rooms like a recalcitrant child.

[I can always just leap over his head and be off again,] Legolas pondered when the Elf-lord did not speak. [I've greatly displeased him this day and proven just how rebellious I am, so he's certain to make good his threat and lock me away.]

They remained as they were for a long moment while snowflakes made Elrond blink more rapidly and Legolas wished he would just go away.

"May I come up?" Elrond finally asked, so quietly that his words were all but lost to the night.

[No,] was Legolas's immediate, silent response. [But it's his tree, he can climb it if he wishes.] Unable to frame the response manners dictated, Legolas settled for nodding and pushed back from the edge. Climbing a bit higher, he perched on a sturdy upper branch which made room for Elrond's larger frame in the heart of the old oak.

[Please don't let him fall and add to my list of transgressions this day?] he silently asked of the tree.

To his surprise, the older elf could climb better than Legolas had thought, though admittedly not as well as one born to the once-bright Mirkwood forest. The branches may not have parted as willingly for Elrond as they did for Legolas, but the tree would cradle and protect him just as it did Legolas.

[He has tended me and my forebears all of my days,] the tree revealed in images rather than words, with gratitude and humility vibrating in its leaves. [I welcome the chance to protect him as he has protected me.]

Images of fire danced through Legolas's mind, and he sensed the tree's heart tremble. [The flames didn't reach here, my friend. Be at peace.]

[He stopped them before they could,] said the tree.

While Elrond settled only a few feet away from him, Legolas was startled to realize he had never seen Elrond out of robes. Tonight, the Elf-lord wore a set of gray leggings, high black boots and a soft-looking gray overtunic that was molded so tightly against him it outlined every muscle in the barrel chest and strong-muscled back. [Did he change clothes just to come look for me? I didn't know he owned such clothing, let alone made use of it.]

The snow continued to fall, the night wore on, and for a long time Elrond sat in silence with his eyes closed and his head propped against the the tree's trunk. When the elf-lord hadn't found him that day, Legolas had had some small hope of passing a solitary night, to give his anger time to cool and to thrust aside new feelings of entrapment here in this realm. That hope was now shattered, and so it was that Legolas resisted the urge to leap down from the tree in search of another private sanctuary.

[Wouldn't do any good,] he reflected, [he'd just track me there as well. There is nothing I can do in Imladris but submit to Lord Elrond's will, regardless the subject.]

Leaving off worrying his bottom lip, Legolas tried to school his features into immobility in preparation for when the Elf-lord finally opened his eyes. [What is he thinking? And why is he here? I only wish I dared ask aloud.] The snow had stopped falling and the night was late, shrouded in serenity, when Legolas heard someone speak. Someone who was not Elrond.

Sitting up, the older elf locked his gaze into Legolas's and whispered, "I know that voice."

Motioning, Elrond urged Legolas to slip down beside him, the better to lean over the edge of the trunk and eavesdrop on the two men who had come to stand at its base.

"I don't like this, Einar," growled the first intruder, stamping his feet and slapping his arms against himself in an effort to get warm. "It's too cold for your sneakin' an' games tonight."

"Ain't games," said the second man. "One of us has t'see to the job at hand, and you can't think no better than a coney."

"Then let's light a fire while we talk. Leastaways I could be warm while ya insult me."

"You ain't lighting no more fires, Jacoby," the other man growled, sucking on his pipe. "You made a proper mess of the last one, near burnt up the whole place and every horse with it."

"I only--"

"You only near ruint everything. Near burnt me up too, ya half-wit. An' then that elf damn near run over me trying to get in there. You were supposed to create a diversion so I could steal a yearling filly, remember? The whole place wasn't s'posed to go up, you idiot."

"How was I to know it would spread so fast?" Jacoby growled. "You got a better plan, let's hear it. We can't stay here all winter. We've already overstayed our welcome, some of those Elves are starting to look at me funny."

"They're lookin' at me funny, too. They look at everyone funny. Strange folk, the lot of 'em."

"So whadda you want to do? We're runnin' out of time and I don't wanna get caught."

"Next time it snows, we let out the mares--"

"ALL of 'em?"

"Yeah, all of 'em. We drive 'em into the woods, pick one off at our leisure, and climb out of here while they're off lookin' for all the others. They'll never miss just the one, and if they do they'll think she's lost."

"We should get a grown one, not one a' them babies," Jacoby agreed, enthusiasm rising. "An' get a fat one that's already carryin' another one. And one we could ride home, aye?"

"Aye, let's. But only one, mind? We'll have to trade off ridin' back."

Legolas dared to turn his head and meet Elrond's gaze, his own eyes filled with horror at the sickening knowledge just gained.

"All of our friends, lost to greed," Elrond murmured beside him, so quietly no mortal could have hoped to hear a word.

"Where did these men come from?" Legolas whispered.

"My sons found them lost and freezing in the outer woods not three months ago. They were brought in kindness to Imladris and made welcome among us as they healed." The Elf-lord's words were quiet, but when he set his hand upon the younger elf's shoulder, Legolas could feel Elrond vibrating with rage. "Would that we were armed and could deal with this ourselves, this night."

Reaching for the sheath at his shoulders, Legolas withdrew one of his long-knives and set it in Elrond's hand. "I have another and a dagger as well if you wish use both knives."

"One is fine for my purposes."

"I'll take Einer, the one with the pipe," Legolas suggested, half-rising to leap from the tree.

"Agreed." The smile Elrond flashed was grim and cold. Rising up, he dropped silently to the ground on the far side of the tree from the men. He pivoted left as Legolas landed quietly beside him, long-knife in hand as he moved stealthily to the right.

Attacking in tandem, the two Elves finished the fight before it had time to begin. The pipe fell to the forest floor and went out after Legolas shoved his knife at Einer's back, targeting a kidney. Long fingers wrapped around the man's throat.

"Struggle, and I'll break your neck," Legolas growled. "But feel free to struggle if you really want to. I won't mind."

Long white fingers tightened around the grizzled man's throat as Einer wheezed and gulped under the restraint. He did not, however, struggle. Looking across, Legolas saw that Elrond stood with one arm wrapped around Jacoby's torso, with a long knife set against the man's throat.

"Walk," the Elf-lord growled, shoving Jacoby forward and jarring him into the blade so that a thin red line of blood appeared just below his jaw.

"Where?" the man sniveled.

"To the stables."

The journey took thrice as long as it should have, with the two shivering men stumbling on their way, passively trying to interfere with their captivity. In the end, Legolas was forced to draw blood at Einer's back; a superficial wound, it nonetheless dampened the man's jerkin and made him shiver, though whether from chill or fear was debatable. At last, they entered the deserted stable where Elrond lined them up against Assassin's stall wall and told them not to move as the horse stallion came out of the shadows to inspect them.

The two cringed away from the stallion, but it took only one snap of mighty teeth to persuade them that standing still was the best option available. While Assassin watched, swords and daggers were collected and thrown into a heap, and Legolas tied their hands.

"Don't cut the rope," Elrond ordered, tethering the men together. "We'll need two horses."

The horses, Legolas learned, were for himself and Elrond only. They chose carefully reliable geldings that he knew had escaped the fire, two who were battle-ready and well-able to run down two mortal men if they should try to escape. Elrond did not offer to bind the men's wounds before vaulting onto his mount's back and taking the rope Legolas offered.

Teeth chattering out of fear, the men stumbled behind Elrond's mount as the Elf-lord headed out over the mostly empty fields, across the river and up the slippery slope leading out of the sheltered valley of Imladris. Riding in silence at the rear, Legolas guarded against any attempts to escape.

The men were whimpering and stumbling, already cold past their endurance as they reached the top of the cliffs. Legolas watched their fate unfold over the next hour, after Elrond had gained Imladris's borders only to travel another twisting couple of leagues.

"A little further," ordered Elrond.

Finally calling a halt to the excruciating march, Elrond turned his mount to confront the two men. While Legolas knew where they were, he suspected that the men were lost once again.

"Take off your cloaks," the Elf-lord ordered mildly. Legolas slipped down from his horse, the better to guard.

The men did as they were told, dropping the apparel where they stood.

"Burn the cloaks, Legolas," Elrond ordered again, still mounted and holding the mens' tether.

"No!" Jacoby protested, whirling and diving for his cloak.

"Make sure the wood is wet. Let it smoke," Elrond ordered further, ignoring the man's outburst.

Startled, Legolas met Elrond's cold grey eyes before bowing his head and nodding. "As you wish, m'lord."

"You can't just leave us out here!" Einer protested as Legolas set about making the fire and took Jacoby's cloak from his cold, reluctant grasp.

"Leave you as you left my horses to burn?" Elrond asked. "On the contrary, I can and I will. A choice is set before you: you may huddle at your small fire until morning and some warmth returns to our world, and hope that the smoke does not attract hungry orcs to find you in the night. Or you can walk in the cold woods and try to scout a path that will lead you into some Ranger's camp or to a road traveled by men who will take pity on you and return you to your own world."

"'At's leagues away!" Einer protested. "It's clear that you mean t'freeze us out here."

"I am doing nothing to you!" Elrond snapped, circling his gray gelding closer to the two men.

Jacoby had begun weeping, Legolas noted with only casual interest.

"I am actually being quite restrained, as my first desire was to avenge the cruel and painful deaths of my gentle horses by merely cutting your throats," Elrond growled over them. "Elves, however, are above such random barbaric acts as men favor, and so I will give you a chance to survive. You'll admit it's a better chance than you gave my horses when you consigned them terror, flame and--"

Elrond broke off abruptly, his broad hand clenched on the long-knife as he fought to suppress his anger to more manageable levels. Sensing his fury and agitation, the gelding danced beneath him.

"I have returned you to where you were found by my sons," Elrond continued finally, in a soft voice that held no gentleness and no compassion. "I leave you in the same condition as when you were last here. As I recall, you had no provisions, no cloaks, only the clothing you stood in."

The Elf lord's gaze raked over them once more, then he sighed. "I will let you keep the boots, as yours were ruined by the time you arrived in Imladris. All in all, I think it is a far better fate than the one you visited upon my friends, isn't it?"

Poking at the sullen, smoky fire he'd started, Legolas knew that the boots had been made for feet that did not mind the cold.

Elrond continued mildly. "Live or die, I care not. If you live, I would advise you to never set foot inside Imladris again unless you wish for death. Perhaps you will stumble upon a way out of here. Perhaps, between the two of you, you possess the skills to survive the cold. Perhaps you will indeed freeze to death or be eaten before morning. But you are getting a better chance at survival than the one left to my horses."

Abandoning the rope as he abandoned the men, Elrond turned his horse. "Come, Lasgalen."

Vaulting onto his horse, Legolas ignored the pleas for clemency that faded as they rode away. Legolas didn't bother looking back. The two rode in silence until, well on their way back to Imladris, Legolas glanced over to see that Elrond was trembling with fury.

In his mind, Legolas recalled Mithrandir's words of only a few weeks before: 'Elrond will not send you to anything so simple as a dungeon if you make him miserable. There are no dungeons in Imladris...You would not escape him so easily, nor would your torment be as brief as six weeks. He would...make you more miserable than you could ever imagine being.'

[This is what he was talking about,] Legolas realized. [This is what the Lord of Imladris is like when his wrath is roused. I don't think he's yet been angry with me, for I have never hurt him or those he loves. Elbereth willing, I never will. My request to visit Dol Guldur did not command his wrath, it elicited another reaction from him. But what reaction? Possessiveness, perhaps?]

Riding behind Elrond as they descended back into Imladris, Legolas continued thinking. [I don't understand this, ] he finally concluded with some exasperation. [I do know that he should not be left alone this night. The flames are before my eyes and the screams of his horses still ring in my ears; I know he hears them as well.]

They returned the horses to the stable, where a silent, drawn Elrond helped Legolas settle them for what remained of the night and gave a slight bow when he returned the younger elf's long-knife to him. Legolas then followed Elrond across the field and into the main house, up the stairs and into his private rooms.

Not seeming to notice his companion, Elrond went lean a hand against the fireplace and stare dolefully into its flames. Retreating to the shadows of the otherwise darkened room, Legolas considered what might be needed.

"Is there anything I can do to help, Lord Elrond?"

Elrond shook his head. "There is nothing for this pain, Legolas. You cannot bring back my friends who were lost... and for what? Because two greedy men coveted a Perendhil yearling or mare to strengthen whatever pitiful herd they possessed?"

Bowing his head, Elrond rubbed at his eyes. "They had but to ask, and Elven generosity would have given them both. They would have been taught how to train the yearling, how to make a lifelong companion of the mare so that she carried them willingly as protected their mates and children to the end of her days. Her get would have taken care of them as well, unto the tenth generation. But they did not ask and so because of their clumsy greed our friends are gone. Gone to flame and sword and pain and terror--"

Elrond's voice choked off. He fell back into his chair before the fire, his gaze once again focused on the flames - tamed brothers of those who had roared, destroyed and devoured so much that night.

Coming cautiously forward, Legolas sank down to sit beside the Elrond's chair, reached out to lay a hand against the Elf-lord's face and sweep away his tears with the back of warming fingers.

"So much pain," Elrond whispered, staring down at Legolas. "So much loss. And now, I fear that I will lose you as well."

"Lose me?" This leap startled and confused Legolas. "But...I am here."

"I fear losing you to the wraiths and the darkness that is Dol Guldur. It fills me with horror to think of you trapped in the fear and darkness of that place. And yet, I must let you go."

Long fingers wrapped around Legolas's wrist and caressed gently where before their touch had threatened to break bone. Elrond's eyes were black in the firelight, haunted with what might be.

"I must go," Legolas murmured quietly. It hurt, having to lay more pain upon Elrond this night, but the answer was the same as it had been a day earlier, though Legolas realized he was far less eager now to pursue this fight.

"Yes, you must go," Elrond agreed, "or others will die. But mine is the gift of foresight. Be it blessing or curse, I know that something will happen, and I fear that you will not return to me." Elrond's tears had stopped, all of his wrath seemed to have melted away to leave only an obvious, aching sorrow.

Stroking a hand down the raven-black hair, Legolas momentarily considered matters, then cocked his head and dared to ask, "Was it fear that drove you yesterday then, when we talked of my going to Dol Guldur?"

"Yes." Barely a whisper, with dark eyes pleading for understanding. "I do not wish to cage you, Legolas. I would only keep you safe, yet I cannot. You will not let me."

"I will be safe," Legolas assured, still stroking down that hair much as he would have stroked a horse's mane. Elrond had not yet objected to the touch, and he hoped it offered some comfort. "I promise this."

"You cannot offer such a promise," Elrond replied, hints of something darker creeping in his voice, something of sadness and almost resignation. "And I dread what I have seen. I care about you, Legolas. I would not lose you."

"I cannot remember anyone caring about me in the past, except perhaps Mithrandir."

Elrond summoned the ghost of a smile. "A foolish oversight, my prince."

"Mithrandir voiced no objections to my going. He knows what I am capable of, and I have been inside the Dark Lord's fortress before."

"Be that as it may, things happen. There are events we cannot control, and you+ cannot control what transpires within that dark place." Elrond sighed sadly and turned to look down upon the slender elf beside him. "Truly, tonight I feel very little is actually within my control. I would not have you go, but you must go and so I will let you go. But nothing will induce me to be at ease with your going."

Taking a deep, shuddering breath, Elrond reached out to caress one long, golden braid and ran it between his fingers. "With you, I send my sons who possess other parts of my heart. I send also the wise wizard Mithrandir and Glorfindel whose powers are not inconsequential. These will protect and watch over you, regardless you think you do not need such protection."

Legolas pressed his cheek against the Elf-lord's hand and leaned in to increase the caress as might a cat. "I would not have you risk so much. I would not have any of them injured or lost because of my efforts."

"Then best you take care to come back to me safely," Elrond said gruffly. Legolas could hear the affection behind the gruffness now and did not pull away. "If you return, they will be safe as well. And they will bring you back safely to me as well."

"If it will bring you ease, then I will welcome their protection. And yours."

"I hope so, my prince."

Warm fingers opened to release the braid only to caress beneath Legolas's ear. He shivered, enjoying the touch and surprised even as he drew comfort from the simple intimacy. Closing his eyes, he leaned against Elrond and enjoyed the small touches -- touches Legolas was certain offered their own reassurance to the Elf-lord simply because they were allowed. Meeting Elrond's gaze once more, Legolas nodded as the final pieces of the clicked into place in his own mind.

"I think that I finally understand you," he offered hesitantly.

"And what is it that you understand?"

"Rather than caging me as you seemed to threaten yesterday, you will ignore your wishes and your fears and set me free to do what must be done."

"Yes," Elrond whispered. "I have lost too many that I love, Legolas. Elbereth grant that you are not the next one lost to me, that you return safe home to me."

"I will." Nodding, Legolas shifted around so that he could stare into the fire and lean against Elrond's thigh. Long fingers sifted again and again through his hair.

When Legolas did not object or move away, Elrond dared to unfasten the braids at the sides and the leather thong at the back so that the hair flowed freely through his fingers like rivers of light. Almost shyly, Legolas wound his arms around Elrond's calf. Laying his cheek against the strong thigh, he allowed the contact and the caresses and basked in the warmth of the fire and Elrond's protectiveness.


	15. Chapter 15

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

"It will be an early spring," Elrond observed, pacing beside Mithrandir in the garden behind the main house and gazing over the fields to see his beloved animals grazing in peace. "The horses are already shedding out their winter coats."

"How wonderful that your elven vision can see that at this distance." The wizard puffed contentedly on his pipe. "How wonderful as well that Legolas has not made himself scarce since your sons and I returned from Lothlorien, and I've actually been able to see him. Where is he now, out practicing with Elrohir?"

"I believe he is within my library, reading. And I must caution you to remember to call him Lasgalen."

"Lasgalen it shall be." Grey eyes narrowed up at the Elf-lord. "So you've not yet told your people who he really is?"

"No."

"I thought this little deception was for the benefit of the horses, who are all very well this day. Why, therefore, does it continue?"

Elrond considered his answer for a moment. "He does not feel comfortable with having all of Rivendell know his identity just yet."

"And he remains indoors examining musty old tomes rather than running free with your sons?" Mithrandir chuckled. "It would seem that you have succeeded where Thranduil could not."

"How is that?"

"You're taming him, Elrond. Making him more like you."

Elrond snorted. "Hardly. He has become interested in his family history, and I have tamed him not at all; he goes where he will and does what he wishes."

Mithrandir nodded in apparent acceptance of the explanation, but the laughter in his eyes gave Elrond the feeling that he was merely being humored. To himself, Elrond admitted to a certain bewilderment that Legolas was not out with his sons, or out anywhere that did not include the Elf-lord. Legolas was indeed inside the library and reading of his forebears, but that had happened only after the young prince from Mirkwood had grown bored with feigning interest in the endless parade of meetings in Elrond's library, another activity that had baffled the Elf-lord.

[I must remain inside with dusty old elves and dusty old tomes, but Legolas must not.] That the younger elf did was as much a mystery to Elrond as it was to Mithrandir, though the wizard seemed more entertained than curious. That was annoying as well.

"Have you noticed?" went the house gossip, "Lasgalen of Mirkwood scarcely leaves Elrond's side."

For once, the gossip was right. For two weeks after the capture of the men responsible for the stable fire and before Mithrandir's return, Elrond and Legolas's days had fallen into an easy pattern. Rather than returning to his tree against the back cliff or seeking solitude with the horses, Legolas had made a point of remaining close to Elrond. Joining Glorfindel and Elrond at breakfast, he also made an effort to join in their debates - at least over matters involving the horses - and he remained to listen when discussions had ranged beyond. After breakfast, when Elrond had assumed Legolas would prefer to accompany Glorfindel to the stables, the younger elf had stayed with his lord. Yet another mystery.

"Are you sure you would not rather be with the horses? Or out with my sons and preparing for your journey to Dol Guldur?" Elrond had asked only that morning as Legolas settled opposite Elrond's desk with his latest book.

"It will only take a few moments for us all to gather supplies for the journey, and there will be time enough on the road to prepare Glorfindel for Dol Guldur." Hesitating, Legolas added softly, "Our time together grows short, and I would rather spend it with you."

Shaking himself mentally from his musings, Elrond laid a hand on Mithrandir's shoulder. "Council begins soon. We should head inside."

"Will Lasgalen's voice be heard again today?" Mithrandir asked.

"Only if the prince of Mirkwood is mentioned. Lasgalen may be quiet by nature, but when he speaks it is memorable."

"Those musty old advisors of yours are far too settled in outdated opinions, Elrond. They need a good shaking up. Lasgalen will do them good."

This time it was Elrond who smiled. "I doubt any of my advisors would agree with you, but I do. I've no idea if Leg… if Lasgalen will join us, but I certainly hope he does."

Leading the way to the library, Elrond crossed the inlaid wood floor and climbed the stairs before glancing across the library proper. Candles burned in their sconces, illuminating the gloomy interior, and the Elf-lord's eye was caught by the bright light of Legolas's golden hair where he sat within, still engrossed in his book. Giving a slight smile to have located his elf, Elrond settled into his chair and smoothed his robes.

"Istian," he addressed the dour elf seated opposite him. "Will you begin?"

Istian would and did. It seemed half an age later when the meeting finally adjoined, long after certain parts of Elrond's anatomy had grown numb. Rising with a groan, Mithrandir leaned on his staff and popped his back. Grimacing, he followed Elrond down the steps and into the library.

"Do my aches deceive me, or did the particular boredom we just survived last much longer than usual?"

"It did," Elrond agreed. "Everyone seems to be determined to regain their status as a contributing member of the council after Lasgalen made them look so foolish not many—"

The elf-lord and wizard whirled as a book was slammed hard against a wooden table. Leaping to his feet, Legolas cast a look of disgust at the book he'd just abused and stalked out of the library.

"And he's away," Mithrandir muttered, staring at the open archway through which Legolas had disappeared. "What was he reading?"

Pacing across the floor to the reading table Legolas had just vacated, Elrond opened the book and leafed through the first few pages. "It would appear that he was reading an account of the Battle of Dagorlad. Specifically of Lord Oropher -- Sindarin Lord of the Silvan elves and sire of Thranduil Orophilion, King of Mirkwood."

Oropher was also the grand-sire of Legolas Thranduilion, Prince of Mirkwood. Elrond had been present at the Battle of Dagorlad, which had occurred not all that long before Legolas had been born.

Gil-Galad and his armies had prepared and marched forth from Imladris with Elrond at his side. Oropher and Thranduil had joined the Last Alliance of Elves and Men on the slopes of Mount Doom, and it was there that Oropher had been slain along with two-thirds of his army. A bitter Thranduil had survived and returned to Greenwood the Great to solidify his rule of the woodland kingdom and father two sons--the youngest of which was even now betrothed to the Lord of Imladris.

"Refresh my memory, Elrond. Which battle was Dagorlad?"

"The armies of Elves and Men fought on the wide plain before the Gates of Mordor, and many were lost in the marshes bordering the battlefield to the west," Elrond relayed. "Sauron fled back to Barad-dur, and we conducted a bitter siege there of seven years. The Dark Lord was finally defeated, and so it was that the Second Age ended shortly before Lasgalen was born." Gently closing the book, Elrond smoothed the cracked spine with a tenderness usually reserved for living patients. "He could have been kinder to the book."

"His grand-sire and other Mirkwood relations fought in that battle, did they not? Came to a brutal end of their leader's own making. Perhaps Lasgalen has never heard the tale before," Mithrandir murmured.

"Thranduil managed to survive, but Dagorlad devastated him. I doubt it's a story told often in Mirkwood."

Settling into a nearby chair, Mithrandir retrieved his unlit pipe. "Given Thranduil's heartbreaks and ego, he'd hardly find reason to speak of it." Hidden pockets in the rough robes were patted in search of a small pouch of Shire weed. Without looking up from his taske of preparing to light the pipe, the wizard added casually, "You'll be off then to smooth your elfling's ruffling feathers?"

"Lasgalen is hardly an elfling, nor is he feathered."

"But he is yours." The wizard's gray eyes twinkled. "First by political machination and now, amazing as it might appear, by choice it would seem."

Elrond glared at him, but Mithrandir smiled and waved him off. "Be gone with you, my friend. I'll still be here when you return and you'll know where to find me, which is more than Lasgalen is promising given the headstart he has and the many acres in and out of Imladris."

Elrond gave a half-smile. "I believe I know where to find him."

* * *

The Elf-lord found Legolas where he thought he would: in the same giant old oak they had shared only a snowy fortnight past. The younger elf had perched on a lower branch this afternoon; one with much headroom between it and the next one and ideal for the activity he had chosen, which was to split arrow after arrow into a distant target.

Approaching softly behind Legolas, Elrond narrowly missed having his nose scraped by the next arrow that was ripped out of its quiver, smoothly nocked, and released. It struck a near tree with a violence that was unnecessary given the slight distance to the target, but it was still effective: the arrow that had preceded it shattered with a most satisfying, brittle crunch.

Coming up on Legolas's bow arm, Elrond made sure he was well away from the pointed end of the next arrow before leaning against Legolas's perch and watching for a few minutes.

"Do you never miss?" he finally asked.

Thwang-CRUNCH!

"Not often." The answer came through gritted teeth. Another arrow sang. Another died.

"That's a fair bit of work you're destroying. Have you arrows to spare then?"

Legolas spared him an icy glance before slowly, deliberately drawing another arrow from the dwindling number left in his quiver. "I've enough. And I can make more."

The younger elf's voice was quiet, cold and angry. Deeply, bitterly angry, Elrond realized.

Daring to stroke a hand down Legolas's gleaming blonde head - regardless the gesture was totally ignored - Elrond asked, "Had you not heard of the battle on the slopes of Mount Doom?"

Thwang-CRUNCH! "I'd heard."

Legolas's body vibrated beneath Elrond's hand. Given the younger's elf's obvious fury, it seemed a miracle that he was tolerating the Elf-lord's touch at all.

"What I was told during my schooling," Legolas continued, "is a slightly different version than the one in your tome. My fath...Mirkwood's king seems to favor his own version of the truth in more than just his correspondence with you regarding me."

Laying his bow across his lap, Legolas drew a deep, ragged breath and looked across at Elrond who stood at a level with his shoulder. "I had heard that many from Mirkwood died that day. What I did not know until now is how inept a leader my grand-sire was during battle. It seems to me that Oropher is as much responsible as Sauron for his own death, not to mention the death of the Elves who trusted him to lead them into battle."

Anger fairly crackled from the lithe form. Leaping down from the branch, Legolas slung his bow across his shoulder and stalked into the surrounding forest. The snow crunched beneath his feet.

[So much for the silent passing of Elves,] Elrond pondered. Falling into step beside the younger elf, he follwed where Legolas willed. A few minutes later, it became obvious that movement rather than destination was what Legolas had in mind as they crossed and recrossed their path in the snow.

"Many lives were lost that day," Elrond began quietly when Legolas's stride showed some small chance of slowing. "Men as as well as elves from all the realms."

"You lost more because of my grand-sire!" Legolas snarled, sparing a hard glower at the tall Elf-lord pacing so calmly beside him. "You were there, as was Thranduil. I know now how easily the King of Mirkwood twists facts and betrays his people to suit his purposes. And so it is that I trust your memory much more than I trust his tales. I need to hear the truth, Elrond, which is apparently seldom found in Mirkwood. I need to know what the rest of Middle-earth knows, not just Thranduil's pretty fables."

"Just this morning, you read multiple accounts from Elves who were there."

"I want you to tell me," Legolas snarled. "I want to know what you saw and what you remember. Through your words, I want to see and feel what happened." Stopping on the path, Legolas drew a deep breath before looking up and meeting Elrond's eyes. "Will you please tell me, my lord, with honesty and candor, what actually happened at Dagorlad?"

Startled at Legolas's insistence, Elrond nodded in agreement and took a moment to gather his thoughts. "It is a long and sorrowful tale, Legolas. Are you sure you wish to start this now?"

"We do not leave for Dol Goldur until tomorrow. I believe I have time to hear your words."

"As you wish, my prince." Leaning against a tree, Elrond cast his mind back a thousand years. "Your grand-sire claimed Greenwood the Great in the name of your father before the building of Barad-Dur and Sauron's rise at Dol Guldur. Greenwood's realm extended into the woods surrounding the Lonely Mountain then, and its people were kin and neighbors to those dwelling in Lothlorien."

"What of you here in Imladris?" Legolas asked, standing before Elrond and holding his gaze.

"Imladris did not yet exist; I served Gil-Galad in Lindon then. When Galadriel and Celeborn settled in Lothlorian, Oropher and your father resented their 'intrusion' and broke off connections. Still, Greenwood's people traveled and traded with those in Lorian. Imladris was founded after the fall of Eregion; your people visited here as well and were made welcome."

Pushing away from the tree, Elrond wandered through the forest with Legolas falling into step beside him. "Oropher knew that peace in Middle-earth was impossible unless Sauron was destroyed," the Elf-lord continued. "No race could do this alone, and so when Gil-Galad and Elendil called the Last Alliance, your sires assembled a great army in Greenwood and Oropher led them to battle."

Elrond's voice softened as he continued the tale. "Though courageous and strong, Greenwood's Silvan host was ill-equipped compared to others among us. We could have compensated for this, but Oropher was obstinate and unwilling to place himself under Gil-galad's sovereign command. So it was that he did not wait for Gil-galad to signal the advance at Dagorlad. Your grand-sire rushed forward and was cut off from the main host. Driven into the Dead Marshes to the west of the battle-field, he, your older brother, and most of Greenwood's army was slain by Sauron's men."

Legolas stared up at Elrond and nodded understanding. Snowflakes began to fall, peppering his hair only to melt and stain his leather tunic. "I am sure that no other outcome was possible that day. Unlike my sire, I see where lies the true responsibility for the slaughter of the Greenwood elves."

"There would have been heavy losses regardless who led the armies," Elrond cautioned. "The slaughter was terrible, and I cannot assure you that the numbers would have been far different had Orophir completely handed his command over to me."

"Perhaps not, but I more fully understand the reasons for the animosity between our houses. Oropher's arrogance and impatience lives on in Thranduil. Now I see how willing Mirkwood's king is to deny truth in deference to his ego."

"In deference to his anguish as well, no doubt."

"No matter the motivation, you must agree that lying is wrong." Blue eyes lifted from the trampled snow beneath their feet to meet Elrond's. "I offer apology and sympathy to you in Thranduil's place."

"You have my gratitude for that." Elrond laid a hand on Legolas's shoulder. "My accounts of the battle angered you, then?"

"Senseless death angers me," said Legolas. "Untruths anger me, and there has been much of both in this tale." Scuffing his foot in the snow, the elf added, "I must also admit to a certain amount of fear."

"Fear?" Elrond arched an eyebrow. "What is it you fear?"

"That our going to Dol Guldur will be for naught. That my father will reject your counsel as Oropher once rejected Gil-galad's. That another Alliance will need to be forged in some not-too-distant day, and my father will not admit it until it is too late for everyone in Mirkwood and all races in Middle-earth. Given what I have learned of the Dark Lord's stronghold and of my father in recent weeks, I'm certain this must come to pass. I fear that the new battles will fall to you and Lord Celeborn, without Mirkwood's deficient assistance this time."

"You believe Sauron is not defeated?" Elrond asked softly.

"I know that he is not, for I have been inside Dol Guldur and have seen what evil stirs. Sauron watches and waits like a fat black spider until the time ripens for his return. I fear Sauron, yes. But I also fear that for all of Thranduil's pretty words on parchment and his giving me to you, he will never share your dream of a united Eldar, much less another alliance with Men. He is too selfish, too prideful to admit that we are all of us connected and must unite if our world is to be made safe."

"It has ever been thus, Legolas," Elrond said mildly, caressing Legolas's shoulder with his thumb in hope of soothing him somewhat. "All we can do is continue our efforts and offer your father the best alliance we can. He may yet be convinced to set aside his prejudices against Galadriel and me for the good of all."

Tightening his jaw, Legolas offered a sceptical shrug and looked away to stare into the swirl of snowflakes. "He will do so only if the good of Thranduil comes first. Or perhaps that of his his people. I dare hope it is so."

"Tell me how is it that you do not share his prejudices?"

"I was left to grow up beyond our fortress walls," said Legolas, "with minders who did not object to my running with any warrior as long as he was capable and not likely to leave me to the spiders. Mirkwood also welcomed the Rangers and I have run with them as well – not that my minders or I have ever told my father that," he added with a hint of a smile. "My Mirkwood teachers caught and taught me as they could. A few of our archers and strongest warriors also ran with us when I was younger. All taught me diligently. I thought it proved their dedication to my education, but I wonder now if it wasn't eagerness to get out of Thranduil's court."

"So you avoided court?" Elrond ventured.

"As much as possible. Thranduil focused his attention upon my elder brother - the heir to Mirkwood - while I was the spare and blissfully ignored for the most part." Legolas smiled at the thought, offering Elrond a glimpse of a dimple.

"Glorfindel and I have both wondered how it is that you grew to be so unlike Thranduil."

Legolas's smile was grim. "I am told that I have much in common with my mother. It is said that she could not long bear to stay with Thranduil after her first son died at Mount Doom. My father's grief made him a bit difficult at times, and with her own grief so great she had not the strength cope with it. Thranduil gave her a third child - me - hoping to distract and help heal her, but she faded only a few months after my birth."

"How did Thranduil fare then, looking on you?" Elrond asked.

"She was dying before I was even conceived, and so the blame was never mine to bear. But Thranduil feels that I failed in that first task set for me, as my mother could not love me enough to stay. It was her whom he wished alive and not me, so that after her death he had no need for me nor desire to have me underfoot. I was much ignored and left alone to make up my own mind about things, so long as I didn't cause any great disturbances."

"As your brother was not," Elrond concluded.

"My brother has always been kept close to Thranduil's side and carefully schooled in his ways. He is to be the next ruler of Mirkwood should something befall Thranduil, and I have no doubt that he will carry on in the standards of both Thranduil and Orophir. Though he is not as strong, I think," Legolas added after a moment's thought.

"And so," Elrond concluded, "the past is done, and none of us can undo it. All of us, even your father, gather the broken threads of life and weave them into whatever future we can."

Pushing away from the tree, Elrond slid a companionable arm across Legolas's shoulders, which seemed somewhat less tense. "I believe the twins should have returned from their patrols by now. Would you care to join them and Mithrandir at mid-day meal?"


	16. Chapter 16

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Legolas knew that in life the solution to one problem was inevitably followed by the presntation of yet another problem. So it was no great surprise for him to find that as he and Elrond seemed to achieve a new level of affection and understanding in their relationship, Legolas began having problems in his relationships with a few other Elves dwelling in Imladris.

Not with relationships precisely, Legolas reflected, but more of a problem with certain members of Elrond's court who were always bored and ever watchful of any new mischief they might begin. Unfortunately, their attention had currently focused on becoming more friendly with Lasgalen, the mysterious scout from Mirkwood, who had not only saved the lord's horses but dared argue openly with Elrond before all the host of the stable.

Not only had this strange elf challenged the Lord of Rivendell, he had survived for them to tell the tale, and Lord Elrond actually seemed to favor him afterwards. It was all quite the mystery and delightfully intriguing. And so it was that every move made by the strange Mirkwood elf was observed, cataloged, and discussed with great enjoyment by many in Rivendell.

Legolas had never been comfortable at court - any court - which was why he'd frequented Mirkwood's own but a handful of times in his entire life. While he might have enjoyed dancing with the right partner - had he ever been allowed the freedom to find the right partner - he would never be comfortable with what others saw as playful banter or casual flirting. It was a strange game with rules he did not understand and meanings difficult for him to decipher, and he viewed it all with grave suspicion as to motives of those involved.

[I have better things to do,] he also thought of that past-time, knowing that to have voiced the thought aloud would have sounded more than a little arrogant. It also would have startled and hurt those he worked so hard to protect in Mirkwood. And so he did his best to leave them to their games and find matters to occupy him elsewhere. In Mirkwood, that was not difficult, but Rivendell was proving to be another matter altogether.

Legolas was no longer allowed to protect anyone in Mirkwood, and while Elrond would not have objected to Legolas protecting the citizens of Imladris, the younger elf did not think it a good time to run the wilds of his new home. Instinct told him to stay close to the Elven lord instead.

"Elrond fears losing me to the darkness within Dol Guldur," Legolas acknowledged privately to Glorfindel after the older Elf had inquired as to why Legolas was spending so much time within the sanctuary of Elrond's library when there were the twins to trounce. "Even if I believe my lord's fears unfounded, I must still respect them. I cannot forego this journey, and therefore I cause him distress. But I can try to ease what little I might, and so I would not leave his side until I must."

Unfortunately, staying close to Elrond meant accompanying him to dinner in the Great Hall each evening and remaining after the meal to witness courtly activities like dancing and singing. It also meant enduring and trying to subtly discourage special attention from certain female elves who weren't hindered by Elrond's gentle attachment to him.

"And why should they be?" Glorfindel had laughed when an agitated and irritable Legolas sought him out for counsel after no less than five elven maidens - FIVE! – had made it clear that they expected Legolas to pay court in the form of dancing with them that evening.

"Elrond is betrothed to Legolas, Prince of Mirkwood," Glorfindel had pointed out with an annoyingly cheerful grin. "No formal claim has been staked upon Lasgalen, scout from that woodland realm. You are therefore free for all of the residents of Imladris to try to win your favors."

Grinning, Glorfindel had mockingly wound a long strand of Legolas's hair about his finger. "All they want is a dance, Lasgalen. I hardly think your virginity or theirs is in jeopardy."

"So what are you telling me to do?" Legolas had growled, slapping at the intruding hand and pulling away to scratch his scalp.

"Relax and enjoy the attention." The Elf-lord winked before walking away. "I would."

Unable to resist the temptation, Legolas mimed firing an arrow into Glorfindel's insufferably confident, retreating back. Satisfying though the gesture might have been, it didn't help the situation at all. Minutes later, on the way back to the table he was sharing with Elrond and Glorfindel, Legolas was cornered by one of Arwen's friends. Giggling, she grabbed the reluctant elf's hand and hauled him into the ongoing ringdance. Short of using his archer's strength to wrench free of her suprisingly strong yet dainty fingers, there was nothing to be done but submit.

A bemused Elrond watched from the head table, chin in hand as a very stiff Legolas grudgingly fell into step. "He seems strangely reluctant to participate in the festivities."

"Indeed," Glorfindel said somberly, sinking down into his own chair with a new pitcher of wine and deciding not to confide Legolas's frantic conversation with him only minutes before. "More wine?"

"Thank you, no." Elrond waved away the offer without taking his eyes off of the bright elf who was winding his sour way across the floor.

For a long moment, Glorfindel watched Elrond watching Legolas. "She's pretty, isn't she?"

"He is that. Though I think I'd choose another word to describe him."

Glorfindel laughed and shook his head. "Not Lasgalen, Elrond. Her. I said her."

Elrond favored him with a scowl. "Who?"

"Legolas's partner."

"Oh. Her. I hadn't noticed."

[Was that a growl?] Glorfindel waited another few minutes before intruding again. "He intrigues you then?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because he has shattered every expectation I had of Thranduil's son." Elrond slouched down into his chair, still without taking his eyes from the gracefully resistant Legolas. "He doesn't act like a prince, and he requires no special treatment except to be treated fairly. In fact, he will go out of his way to evade any special recognition. He is quiet, undemanding, and watches everything around him. He tries to understand everything as well, including me, and I think you'll admit that's no small task?"

"Definitely not something to be undertaken lightly," said Glorfindel. "Perhaps Lasgalen simply didn't understand the magnitude of the tast when he started it."

Elrond spared him a glare, then returned to ticking off elements that he'd discovered about his new companion. "Regardless his youth, Lasgalen is a fighter to equal my sons, and he hates participating here." Elrond's wave encompassed the Great Hall. "He's also very much a loner and seems much older than his few years, something that I find disturbing and almost sad in a way, as though his very youth has somehow been stolen away. I've never met anyone like him and so yes, he intrigues me. Do you see something wrong with that?"

"No, nothing. I think it's lovely." Glorfindel hid a smirk behind his goblet of wine, which he then raised to salute the couple whirling past. "His new friend thinks he's lovely as well, and seems to be trying to make that clear. Just look where she's maneuvered his hands."

Elrond narrowed his eyes at the dance floor where Legolas was all but carrying his dance partner, so closely was she wrapped against his chest. Legolas cast a particularly uncomfortable, desperate glance his way as they whirled past, and Elrond rose to his feet. "Excuse me please, Lord Glorfindel."

"LORD Glorfindel? You've not called me that in an age. What is wrong with you tonight?" He didn't expect an answer and it was a good thing, for Elrond gave no indication of having heard him.

Gathering his robes, the lord of Imladris moved smoothly down the side of the room and up behind the elven maiden who had now draped herself across Legolas to the point that he was required to put his hands in questionable places if only to keep her propped on her feet. By now, any other elf would known her as a willing partner and whispered an invitation into her delicate ear for her to join him in the gardens.

Legolas was not any other elf. He not only seemed oblivious to what the next step in this intimate dance should be, but appeared highly annoyed by his dance partner's efforts. Elrond was well-pleased with that assessment. He also had the impression that were he not to interfere and quickly, Legolas's solution to the problem in his arms would be to let go the she-elf so that she collapsed to the floor in an undignified heap while the scout from Mirkwood made his escape into the surrounding dancers and beyond.

[He doesn't play games well, does he?] Elrond reflected, not at all upset by the realization.

Sliding a hand beneath Legolas's to cup the she-elf's elbow, Elrond met Legolas's gaze before bodily lifting his partner away from him. Leaning down, Elrond rumbled into her ear. "My apologies, lady, but I have a prior claim on this one."

Stiffening, she whirled to snap at the elf who was spoiling her carefully crafted plans. "And who are you to lay claim to--oh!

The affronted feminine presentation dissolved as the elf's eyes widened in surprise. She shrank back, embarrassed to realize who the intruder was.

"I... I'm so sorry, Lord Elrond -- Lasgalen," came the stammered apology, along with a very strange look at both elves. "I had no idea…nobody said anything about…and with the Prince…and…Oh, excuse me!" she mannaged to stammer, her cheeks growing red. Gathering her skirts, she offered an abbreviated curtsey before fleeing through the crowd and not looking back.

The room had stilled during this brief encounter with the musicians falling silent the dancers stilled. All too aware of the eyes and ears of the curious surrounding them, Elrond murmured, "Come, Lasgalen."

Nodding to the silent musicians to continue, he led the way from the midst of the dancers.

Legolas needed no further encouragement to follow the elf-lord from the middle of the room and over to the large stone fireplace which afforded some shadow and privacy. The dance continued and Legolas stood beside Elrond, relief all too obvious in the blue eyes glimmering at him in the firelight.

"Thank you," came the heartfelt words, low and intense.

Elrond offered a crooked smile. "Don't thank me quite yet, as I undoubtedly phrased things badly and have given her the wrong idea. Or the right one, depending on your point of view. Either way, word of my claiming you will spread quickly tonight. I dare say the gossip will create its own problems, but you won't be troubled again." He paused, then offered a small smile. "At least not by our ladies. My news may, however, cheer some of the males."

"I knew of no polite way to reject her advances," Legolas protested. "She was rather persistent, and conversing with her was like dancing on raindrops."

"Not a comfortable position at all to be in. I think you managed quite well, considering how determined she seems to have been to have you for her own tonight, whether you wished it or not. That one is quite good at getting what she wants," he added in confidential tones. Glancing back at the dance floor, the Elf-lord confessed, "To solidify my claim, we should have danced, but I doubt you're ready for that."

"I am tonight," Legolas growled.

"Not for this particular dance."

"Why not?" he protested. "I'd rather dance with you than with her or the ones lined up behind her. That dance was…She wanted me to put my hands…in inappropriate places," he finished unhappily. "She wanted to touch me as well. How could dancing with you be worse than that?"

"Because this particular dance ends in a traditional kiss," said Elrond, "and I don't think you're quite ready to kiss me in public."

Sudden silence met that announcement. After a time, Legolas remarked, "I don't think I care much for this dance."

"I can see where you would not. It is a dance for lovers and those who wish to be. As we are not part of either category, it is a dance we had both best sit out. Not to worry, we'll make certain you are not trapped again. One way or another, I will make certain you are safe from whatever displeases you here."

Legolas nodded briefly. "I thank you for both the rescue and your thoughfulness."

Affection and trust reflected in the blue eyes holding his own – a simple and so important gift that the Elf-lord stared back.

"I take it my plans meet with your approval?" Elrond asked.

Legolas's eyes crinkled at the corners and he laughed softly - a low, almost seductive sound that had Elrond staring down at him in disbelief as the change in the younger elf was remarkable. Gone was the solemn, oh-so-serious and formal elf he'd known until this moment. In his place Elrond glimpsed a complex, occasionally mischievous creature with much warmth, affection and loyalty, one who might actually be ready to claim Elrond as a friend.

"You do realize that my rescue extends only to the ladies of the court?" Elrond cautioned. "You will now be considered a delightful trophy for any male who might find you attractive."

Legolas gave the matter a moment's serious consideration, the smile fading from his eyes. Heaving a sigh, he nodded decisively. "I think I may be ready for you to tell everyone who I really am. Quickly, I think."

"Before you change your mind? Lose your nerve?"

Legolas nodded.

Stepping closer to deliberately invade Legolas's space, Elrond was gratified to see that the younger elf's only reaction was to drop back his head, the better to look up at Elrond.

"You realize that I must tell them also we are promised to bond? We needn't do this if you do not wish it."

"I wish it. This night and right now, for to continue the charade will only cause further difficulties for everyone. I will not allow your reputation to suffer because of my fears, and your announcement will destroy any speculation that the Lord of Rivendell has suddenly developed a taste for any and all males from Mirkwood."

The blue eyes were steady as they held his. Elrond could sense no misguided feelings of self-sacrifice; the elf standing so close before him radiated only a calm confidence and no little affection. Reaching out, he touched Legolas's hand – the one bearing Elrond's own seal. When Legolas didn't withdraw, Elrond carefully entwined their fingers, feeling the archer's callouses slide across his skin. Legolas remained beside him, watching him expectantly.

"So it will be," Elrond whispered. "Tonight."

With Legolas's hand in his, Elrond made his way back to the table where Glorfindel remained slouched in his chair, watching the room and having missed nothing. He had been joined by Elrond's sons and Mithrandir as well; the three had come late to the hall and were only just finishing their supper.

"All is made ready for our departure tonight," Mithrandir informed Legolas with a gentle smile and a nod.

"That is well." The elf moved on with Elrond who set his chair aside, so that he and Legolas might stand before the crowd.

"I'm not sure who's glowering the harder," Glorfindel ventured. "Those who want you, or those who want Elrond."

"They are all going to have to stop glowering and start smiling, even if they must pretend their happiness for us," Elrond pronounced as his sons exchanged looks of dread with Mithrandir, who was looking almost as amused as Glorfindel.

"Oh?" Glorfindel straighened in his seat, his interest peaked by Elrond's intensity. "Is something happening, then? Something you might share with Mithrandir and me?"

"Patience, elfling."

"Elfling!"

"You've behaving as one, aren't you? The tale will be told to everyone in a few moments." Raising his voice, Elrond addressed the crowded hall. "Attend me, if you will?"

The music died, the dance halted. Eager faces turned toward the Lord Rivendell. The twins frowned and Glorfindel grinned, sensing what was coming. Legolas watched the servant elf Aniviel – his acquaintance from the bath - finish refilling Elrond's empty goblet, hurrying to complete her task before her ruler began speaking over her head.

Remembering her complaints about having to clean up after the horses, and her having kicked his last clean clothes into the bath only a few days before, Legolas thought, [Let's hope she can at least complete the task without pouring out over the table.]

Glancing Legolas's way, she scowled as if to say, 'No love lost here, either.' Hurrying, she joined Erestor near the doors.

[I've made my choice, there's no turning back now,] thought Legolas. His hand was still held tight in Elrond's own, and Legolas left it there, realizing he was gripping fingers every bit as hard as was Elrond.

Not for the world would he have pulled away, for he remembered all too well Mithrandir's warning of days past: "The mate you are committed to claiming is every bit the proud, injured warrior you are. While you cannot make him happy any more than he can make you happy, you would do well not to humiliate him in public or in private. You would also do well to seek a common ground on which the two of you may become friends, as lovers seem an impossibility."

"I present to you this night Legolas, Prince of Mirkwood."

There was a long moment of total, stunned silence during which Legolas held his breath. A single voice whispered in the deep silence of the hall, followed by another. He heard his name in each whispered comment which was followed by others. They turned into a steady murmur as the crowd realized that the elf they'd considered one of lowly rank from Mirkwood, moving freely for days among them and witnessing their warts and weaknesses, was actually Thranduil's youngest son.

"I've seen the same terrified look in the eyes of a hare ensnared," Elrond murmured, so quietly that not even Glorfindel – seated but a few feet away and exhibiting keen interest - could have heard. Releasing Legolas's fingers, he laid his hand on the younger elf's shouler. "Be still and trust me a little longer if you can."

"I do trust you."

Reaching down, Elrond retrieved his wine. The crowd quieted again when he raised the goblet in Legolas's honor. "To you, Legolas Thranduilion, I promise my protection, my love and my life."

Sipping from the goblet, he offered it next to Legolas, who drank from it as well. Behind him, chairs scraped back as Glorfindel and Mithrandir rose to their feet. Legolas didn't need to look to know that the twins were following with more than a little reluctance.

"Our father's betrothal is welcome news indeed. Welcome, Prince Legolas of Mirkwood," Elladan murmured. Silent Elrohir offered no verbal chalenge. Instead, he favored Legolas with a stony bow of respect.

Mithrandir toasted the two of them with apparent sincerity. "May your eternity together be filled with peace, happiness, and much love."

"Our lord is betrothed," said Glorfindel, grinning. "Let us celebrate through the night in song, dancing and many good wishes."

Complete silence met Glorfindel's urging. Legolas sensed that the elves in the hall were simply too shocked at their lord's tying himself to Thranduil's shabbiest son to have any reaction other than disbelief. From somewhere close to the door, a loud feminine voice rang out to echo through the hall. "THAT's a prince?"

Elrond narrowed his eyes over Legolas's head and gave what might have been a low growl, but Legolas himself had no need to turn to ascertain the owner of that voice. Closing his eyes, he thought, [Aniviel.] No love lost between them indeed, and yet wasn't her pointed, three-word analysis of Legolas's status all too appropriate? He didn't behave like a prince, and Elrond was getting a poor mate in exchange for his alliance with Mirkwood.

The ironic truth was suddenly too much for Legolas. Life or fate and kings were much stronger than any mere elf or even the ruler of Imladris. No matter what he or Elrond wanted, others had maneuvered and manipulated until rather than rail against the Valar or go insane trying to fight the manipulations, he could only accept and step blindly into tomorrow.

Looking up at Elrond, he let himself smile. Laughter - hysterical or not - bubbled up inside of him until he had to let it out. It rang through the hall, chased Aniviel's words and Aniviel herself down the hallway with Erestor in hot, embarrassed pursuit that one of his household should insult their masters so.

Legolas knew that Aniviel would pay the price for her tactlessness; she would be forever banished to the kitchens or perhaps to the stables – to become a mere groom, mucking out stalls until she constantly smelled of horse and callouses formed on her delicate white hands. Though Legolas himself might ask that her fate be different, if only to spare the horses her incompetence, Aniviel herself had sealed that fate.

To Elrond and the listening crowd, he said, "Given my untidy arrival from Mirkwood and events shared by all of us in the aftermath, she spoke but the truth. I am not upset, neither should you be." Still in possession of Elrond's goblet, Legolas raised it. "I thank you for your welcome, my lord. Your happiness will be mine."

A cheer did go up then, as dismay was replaced by happiness and the elves of Imladris wished to believe this betrothal was for the good of all. Legolas thought Elrond's gray eyes held more than a little relief at his words.

"Let us go," Elrond murmured, draping a companionable arm about Legolas's shoulders.

Legolas fit beneath it as though made to be there, and he jumped only a little – so little that he thought no one but Elrond might notice. Knowing what was expected of him as he was now betrothed, Legolas slid his arm around the Elf-lord's waist for all to see as they walked from the Great Hall. Neither Aniviel or Erestor were anywhere in sight as they journeyed back to what the household would now think of as their private chambers.

"For better or worse, you belong to the Master of Imladris now," Elrond said grimly once the doors had been closed and privacy had been gained. Shrugging out of his outer robe, he laid it across the back of a chair and smoothed a hand across it, as if seeking comfort from the soft cloth. "No one will dare pursue you in any capacity."

"That is well." Legolas watched Elrond disappear into the bedchamber beyond, no doubt to shed the other heavy robe he wore, to be more comfortable in the night. "Between the intense interest of my dance parteners and of Erestor, I was beginning to feel that peace would never be mine here. I dared not offend, but neither had I any wish to endure their attentions."

Elrond all but leaped back into the outer chamber. Naked. "Erestor? You were being approached by Erestor?"

Legolas smiled mildly at Elrond's shocked expression. "You were bound to the Prince of Mirkwood, my lord, not to some lowly scout. What harm could come to Erestor if he dared approach me?"

"Erestor was interested in courting you?"

"Erestor has been interested since I was trapped without clothing in the bath. He evidently liked what he saw and was merely waiting for you to be distracted once your prince arrived."

Elrond moved closer, obviously seeking to somehow reassure, to offer comfort in this awkward situation. Legolas turned away from him, however, his gaze fixed with determination on the winter scene outside on the balcony rather than on the large, well-built and very naked Elf-lord at his side. With a sigh, Elrond turned away and left again, hopefully to cover what was disturbing Legolas.

Music and gentle laughter wafted up from the Great Hall. Legolas bore no illusions as to what those below would be talking about, or laughing about for that matter.

[Aniviel is right: I am no prince, regardless my birth,] he thought, standing at the door overlooking Elrond's private garden. [It's far too late for me to be anything but what I am. All that's left is for Elrond and me to bond this night, and for me to try not to make him too miserable afterward.]

A few seconds later, Elrond emerged from his bedchamber to begin extinguishing candles until none were left. Coming to stand beside Legolas, the Elf-lord did not try to touch him again.

"I thought to leave us in darkness," Elrond explained, "so that if anyone is watching, our intimacy will be assumed."

Nodding, Legolas said, "The snow is falling again, as heavily as it did when Mithrandir and I arrived. It's so calm, so quiet and peaceful now compared to the chaos of the fire."

"Calm, as your heart is in chaos this night?"

"I am all right."

"You were not offended by Aniviel's outburst?"

"Legolas shrugged. "As I said in the hall, she spoke only the truth."

"I was offended, even if you were not. You are very much a prince in heart as well as by birth and heritage."

"She spoke the truth," Legolas replied with quiet determination.

"As we should, one to the other." Reaching out, Elrond ran a hand down the golden mane that was bleached to white in the snowlight. When Legolas did not move away from his touch, Elrond continued the caress. "You seem at least at ease with this affection."

"You are touching me as a friend. Since I arrived, you have taken great care to look after me as a friend."

"I would like to think so." Elrond sounded pleased.

"At the very least, I owe you the same."

"Legolas, you owe me nothing."

"I have never known the sort of kindness you are offering. How could I not wish to return it?"

Turning with a sigh, Elrond lowered himself into the nearest chair. "What I offer has never carried a price, Legolas. If payment is required, then please consider that your saving my horses and helping me punish those resonsible have indebted me to you."

Legolas made an impatient gesture. "Our betrothal and impending bond do not involve the horses. Until tonight, Thranduil's trap has been a quiet, if not private, matter between us. Now that all of Imladris has been told, the trap has further closed about us."

Elrond cocked his head. "So soon you are regretting our announcement?"

"I regret nothing, as you have made everything happen in the most gentle way possible."

"You should have faith that it will continue to be so." Elrond slouched in the chair like a great, insouisant cat.

Giving a low growl, Legolas began pacing. "Are you attempting to distract me from the point I wish to make? I am no diplomat, Elrond, my skill with words is little. I beg your patience this night, to try and make you understand. Surely you will bond with me tonight, for to do otherwise would humiliate you before all of Imladris."

"Indeed?" The Elf-lord sounded half-amused.

"I enjoy your company," Legolas ploughed on. "Surely that is enough to ensure that the bond between us is not the unhappy, eternal horror you fear it will be?" Halting before Elrond, Legolas all but glowered down at him.

***

The Elf-lord waited a moment, until he was certain Legolas was finished speaking. "Let me make sure I understand you, my elf. You do not regret that all of Imladris knows we are betrothed?"

"That is correct."

"And you feel that we must make love tonight and become bonded, else I will suffer untold humliation?"

"Yes."

Elrond arched an elegant eyebrow. [Where did he get that impression, I wonder?] "Have you changed your mind then? Discovered that you want me as a man may want another?"

The elf all but wrinkled his nose. "Elrond, I…"

"That is as I thought." Slouching further in the chair, he gave a deep sigh and rested his chin in his hand. "No, Legolas, I will not take you, this night or any other."

"Then I will have failed and Thranduil will send for me."

"He shall not have you," Elrond said mildly.

"You do not understand either the king of Mirkwood or me!" Legolas exploded. "To bond with you is what I came here to do, and I will honor our agreement."

"And just how do you propose to do that?" Elrond asked mildly. "Tie me down and have your way with me?"

"It is only because of your patience and tolerance of my immature attitudes that we are not already bonded," Legolas said, ignoring Elrond's question. "It must be done, and you do care for me. That is far better than I ever antipated. It is enough."

Elrond stopped slouching and gained his feet to confront the younger elf nose-to-nose. "It is far from enough!"

"It must be, for two such as we are, caught in Thranduil's—"

"I do not consider myself trapped, nor should you." Elrond loomed over Legolas, crowding him so close to the table that he shoved against it and set a pile of manuscripts sliding toward the floor. Sparing them them the briefest of glances, Elrond reached past Legolas and shoved them back atop themselves. "You are under my protection, elfling. Whether you or your recalictrant father recognizes that or not, it is a powerful thing. Let his guards come – they shall not have you. Thranduil shall not have you."

"It is a pretty picture you paint, but it cannot be so."

Elrond stepped back a pace. "You have so little faith in me?"

"It is not faith in you that I lack." Legolas sounded desperate. "It is knowledge of Thranduil and his wrath at being thwarted that prevents me from believing what you say. Mark me, Elrond: if we do not bond, he will reclaim me."

Reaching out, Elrond fingered the braid at Legolas's temple. "He shall not have you tonight, and neither will I. You belong to yourself, Legolas. If I am willing to send you into Dol Guldur and let you fight the wraiths to protect our people, why will you not fight for yourself?"

"Because the outcome of the battle is assured." Tears filled the blue eyes glittering at him in the dark. "Thranduil will win."

Elrond cradled Legolas's face in his hand, stroked the high cheekbone with his thumb and brushed away a wayward tear. "He will not win."

Closing his eyes, Legolas subsided and leaned into Elrond's hand. "Enough, my lord. Let the last night we spend together before your sons and I depart not be lost to contention. You will not yield on this matter. Neither will I, so we will leave it for some little while. I will tell you instead that no one has ever touched me as you do. I think no one else has ever wanted to."

"I find that hard to believe, my prince. Perhaps it is simply that no one else has dared discover you enjoy such touching?"

"Probably." Legolas kept his eyes closed as Elrond moved onto stroke his hair, down over his shoulder.

"You have learned to enjoy this particular touch rather than simply endure it, then?"

"Yes."

Elrond stepped closer. "Then on this our last night, will you lie with me in my bed? To talk and nothing more?"

Opening his eyes, Legolas held Elrond's gaze and considered the question for the longest of moments, until the Elf-lord thought he should withdraw the invitation and offer apology. And then, much to Elrond's surprise, Legolas slipped past him and the table piled high with books and scrolls to disappear inside his bedchamber.

Disbelieving, the Elf-lord followed a few minutes later to find Legolas's tunic folded neatly over the nearest chair. His boots were tucked next to Elrond's, and the elf himself was stretched out on his side along the far side of the bed.

Glittering blue eyes held his in the shadowed light. Elrond noted that Legolas had shed none of his clothing but the boots and the tunic: newborn trust extended only so far, after all, which was only to be expected. Smiling to himself at his elf's modesty, Elrond decided he had decided well not to take Legolas this night, no matter the eagerness he felt to do just that.

Sliding gingerly into bed, Elrond settled on his side, face-to-face with his bed-companion. "You have been spending a great many days close to me. Forgive me for asking, but do you enjoy that as well?"

"I enjoy your company," Legolas acknowledged, seeming relieved at the harmless question. "I enjoy the talks we have, regardless I am not used to being contained within walls." There was a long pause, and then he added, "But I do not enjoy listening to your councellors."

"Nor do I sometimes. You and I have come a long way from the first night you spent in these chambers. That night, pulling honest answers from you was like trying to get the twins to take a bath in their younger days. I felt as though I had caged a wounded hawk, but now my hawk comes to rest without fear. It is a vast change, though you still think my walls are cumbersome."

"Not your walls specifically, Elrond. Any walls."

"Ah. I remember a life not contained by walls," Elrond said wistfully, as it seemed the night for confessions. "I too miss it at times."

Legolas's hand was instantly on his shoulder. "Then come with us to Dol Guldur. I would teach you as I will teach Glorfindel."

"I cannot. I am needed here."

"Everyone here is over five hundred years old except me," Legolas observed. "Surely they can do without you for a few days."

Covering Legolas's hand with his own, Elrond felt the long, fine bones of the archer's fingers. "Imladris cannot do without me, for reasons I cannot explain."

"Imladris cannot do without its lord?" Legolas sounded incredulous.

"I...help keep this place safe and must maintain that safety. However strange it sounds, I am this sanctuary's sole guardian. Without me, it would be lost, and I cannot take the chance of leaving it unprotected, not even for a single day."

Legolas nodded and fell into silence for the next few moments. To Elrond, it seemed a sympathetic, almost companionable silence. Such was new to the Elf-lord, as he was so used to being utterly alone with his responsibilities.

"My father spoke of a choice given to you and your children," Legolas finally said, tactfully changing the subject. "That you may choose once between being Eldar or Mortal. Did he speak truth?"

Elrond nodded. "My brother Elros chose a Mortal life."

"What made you choose as you did?"

"Inside myself, I have always belonged to the Eldar. When the time came, there was no choice. My twin felt otherwise."

"Have you ever regretted that choice?"

"I regret having to watch my brother age and die. I mourn his absence and will always miss him. But regret that I am Elven? No. I am who I am and where I belong. The world of Men never held any attraction for me."

"What then attracts you?"

Almost as if he were unable to resist, Elrond found himself reaching to touch Legolas's hair once more where it fanned across his shoulder and flowed onto the bed. "This fascinates me. This attracts me."

He heard Legolas's swift intake of breath but did not stop sifting his fingers through the heavy hair. "I am deeply attracted to you, Legolas, but I suppose you already know that."

"I did not."

"You do now. Such attraction, I assure you, is something I have never before felt for any male." Elrond fell silent then, preferring to let the drifting exploration of his fingers speak for him.

Abandoning the fall of Legolas's mane when his elf shivered, Elrond moved on to the neat braid at his temple. Untangling its end, he was encouraged when Legolas did not protest its unraveling. Lifting his head, the younger elf allowed Elrond to unravel the other braid before reaching behind and undoing the heavy herringbone center braid himself.

Elrond resumed stroking the now-free silver-gold hair, whiel Legolas's tension over Elrond's confession melted away. The silence soon become companionable again, and Elrond heard his companion's breathing slow to a steadier rhythm.

"I do enjoy your touch," Legolas reiterated softly.

Gliding a hand once more over the golden mane, Elrond dared slide his arm about Legolas's shoulder to gently pull him closer. Murmuring softly, nearly asleep, Legolas allowed the contact, body to body. Sliding his own arm across Elrond's ribcage, Legolas nestled beneath the Elf-lord's chin.

[So he welcomes my touch instinctively as well as when he's awake,] Elrond wondered. [And he will reach for me in sleep?] Elrond's arms went around his elf in a fierce hug. [Then, sweet Elbereth, if you return safe home to me from Dol Guldur, then I believe there's yet hope for you to one day love me as I am coming to love you.]


	17. Chapter 17

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

The morning of the depature to Dol Guldur dawned with a clear, cold beauty that did nothing to assuage Lord Elrond's dread of his loved ones' parting. Arising before Legolas awoke, Elrond took refuge in his library to allow the Elf to bathe and dress in the privacy of their shared chambers. Retiring to the library's upper balcony, Elrond claimed the window overlooking the central courtyard and waited.

Far too soon, he brooded over the sight of Legolas leading two horses out into the central courtyard. One had been chosen for Mithrandir, for the wizard's usual mount had come up lame the day before. Elrond was loaning him one of Rivendell's horses, and Legolas had selected one of the best. The question was, could the wizard actually ride it?

Elrond noted gloomily that it was yet another worry to add to the not insignificant list of concerns as Legolas tried to persuade the shocked creature to stand still while he tightened the girth. That was an indignity this mare clearly was unused tom, and her hooves tapped irritably on the cobbles as the pair spun in yet another tight circle. Laughter floated up toward the elf lord's window seat as Glorfindel stepped into view within the courtyard to watch the argument with amusement. The twins soon joined the group, securing packs and weaponry to their own mounts, making sure all was in order for the journey ahead.

Someone was ascending the winding staircase behind Elrond with a step that was far too heavy to belong to any Elf. Elrond did not turn when Mithrandir came up beside him, puffing to catch his breath after the climb.

"I realize that that you and the twins hope to thwart death by never saying good-bye," Mithrandir panted, "but I refuse to observe any such superstition." An arm stole around Elrond's shoulders to hug him hard.

Sparing the ghost of a smile but never looking away from the golden-haired Elf below, Elrond replied, "It is not superstition, my friend. It is hope."

"Hope filled with fear." Mithrandir spared him a critical look. "You look as if you did not sleep very much last night."

"I didn't."

Below, Legolas had succeeded in making certain Mithrandir's tack was in order. With girth secured and bridle as it should be, the Mirkwood Elf rolled the wizard's spare cloak more tightly than the wizard's haphazard bundle and secured it behind his saddle.

Mithrandir snorted. "That princeling from Mirkwood takes care of me as if I cannot take care of myself."

"More than you know, for it was Legolas who selected the mare you are to ride."

"Then I know who to blame if she dumps me into the gorse, don't I?"

Elrond ignored the comment almost as if he had not heard it, still intent on watching the slender elf below as he moved about the horses.

"You are worried about our journey?" Mithrandir ventured.

"I am." Elrond half-turned from the window to fix the wizard with an irritable glare. "How could I not be worried? Any reasonable being would be worried, sending young warriors into such a danger."

"Your sons and Legolas are well-protected," Mithrandir pointed out. "You might spare a bit of worry for myself and Glorfindel."

That comment drew an even more dire look. "I've no doubt that you two are capable of looking after yourselves."

"As are you sons and Legolas, I daresay. Still, we will all take care of your prince," the wizard reassured quietly.

The censure faded from Elrond's gaze, leaving only aching concern in its wake.

Mithrandir smiled. "How amazing this is, Elrond. My fear when I brought Legolas here was that you would offend each other so badly, neither would have any use for the other. I am happy to know my worry was for naught."

"I care for Legolas, and I will miss him," Elrond admitted. "Moreover, I have a great sense of foreboding that I will never see him again. He does not understand this, and I cannot convince him of my concerns."

"Does he not understand it, does he believe your fears to be unfounded, or does he recognize your fears and think that he still must go?"

"All three, perhaps," Elrond admitted after a moment's reflection. "He has no understanding of my gift of foresight, for he does not share it. When I speak of my vision, he thinks it only anxiety, nothing very serious. He reminds me that he knows Dol Guldur, that he can get in and out and has much support this time than ever he has had in the past. And so what exactly is my worry?" Elrond spread his hands. "How do explain the formless dread that is accompanied by a vague vision of him, huddled and dying, in darkness and distress?"

"So while Legolas may listen to your concerns, he refuses to stay here?"

"Exactly. I must let him go, even as I feel that I will lose him."

Mithrandir's somber gaze held Elrond's. "A foretelling is never to be ignored. Legolas need not go. Glorfindel is entirely capable of seeing himself safely through Dol Guldur."

"Legolas is determined to serve. And he cannot be caged."

"Others have tried to do just that," Mithrandir acknowledged.

"And others have failed." Sighing, the Elf-lord left the window to wander back toward the top of the staircase. "I promised to let Legolas go, so let him go I must. My... benevolence... seems to have won his trust--a trust that I will not shatter, not even for his continued safety and my own peace of mind. He has become my heart's companion these past weeks; I hope that he will not become Sauron's prisoner. But hope is a fragile thing when standing next to such fear as I feel."

Leveling a severe look at Mithrandir, Elrond continued. "It is dreadful enough that Legolas will enter the Dark Lord's fortress. I ask you to give me your word that, come what may, my sons will not cross that threshold. I could not survive losing all three."

"You have my word."

"You have my thanks." Gesturing, Elrond indicated the stairs. "Your companions await, Mithrandir. I will watch for your safe return as I watch for theirs. Elbereth guide you on this journey, my friend."

"Peace be yours while we are away, Elrond."

The Elf-lord returned to his window while the wizard made his way back to the main floor and down into the courtyard. Glorfindel and the twins were mounted now, eager to be off over the bridge and for the adventure to begin. Elrond's sharp eyes found Legolas waiting patiently beside Mithrandir's mare while his gelding grazed nearby.

Joining Legolas, Mithrandir accepted the help that was offered to get him astride his horse. Taking a few circles of the courtyard, the wizard assured the rest of the company that he was capable of handling the mare which was now evidently resigned to bearing both wizard and tack. With a wave, Mithrandir then headed for the stone arch leading out of Imladris.

Vaulting onto his horse, Legolas waited for Glorfindel and the twins to follow the wizard. His gelding moved into place behind Glorfindel's, and Elrond watched as the slender form astride the shining horse moved slowly from the courtyard and the safety Imladris could provide him.

[And that is that,] Elrond thought. [I likely will not see him again.]

But as he watched, loathe to give up this last glimpse of Legolas departing, the last horse in line suddenly turned back. Halting at the archway, Legolas stared up at the windows of the last homely house and found Elrond. Laying a closed hand against his heart, the younger Elf then stretched out his arm and opened his hand. 'My heart stays with you,' said the gesture.

His eyes welling with tears, Elrond echoed the salute and whispered, "My heart goes with you, my prince."

Giving a slow, solemn nod, Legolas smile brightly before turning his gelding back to the journey at hand. Cold sunlight dappled the blonde mane, and then Legolas was gone.

***

The twins led the climb out of Imladris, with Glorfindel following behind. Mithrandir waited for Legolas on the far side of the bridge spanning the Bruinen, and the Elf braced himself for the questions coming that he knew he would not want to answer.

Mithrandir did not disappoint. "Is it difficult for you to leave him?"

"No more than it is for him to let me go," Legolas said softly, gesturing that the wizard should precede him on the narrow path winding out of the deep ravine guarding Elrond's sanctuary.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Mithrandir half-turned in his saddle to glower at the elf behind him. "You two seem to have become inseparable, yet you have not bonded."

"I feel great affection for Elrond. Please leave it at that for now."

Mithrandir brightened immediately. "Oh you do? You've done well then, youngling, for I sense that he feels the same for you."

"And I sense that you would do well to keep your eyes on the steep path before your mare rather than twist and turn over the relationship between Elrond and myself. You must actually ride today, Mith, for that is not some cart-horse bearing you."

Chuckling, the wizard winked before turning about and taking up the reins. "Common sense rather than romance rules your existence as ever it has, my friend."

Sighing softly, Legolas did not reply. Thankfully, Mithrandir seemed to take his advice to heart and ceased his questioning. For the moment. Unlike Mithrandir, the twins' curiosity regarding Legolas's intentions toward their father had been assuaged in previous weeks. He had no worries regarding them, and he knew how to handle the wizard. Glorfindel, however, was another matter. The legendary elf had watched closely but remained mostly quiet--if pointed in his occasional commentary--and certainly circumspect inside of Elrond's walls, but Legolas knew little of what to expect now that Glorfindel had easy access to him. Legolas would rest easier atop his gelding once he had ascertained what the older elf's attitude was to be toward him for the next five weeks. It would be a very long journey indeed should Glorfindel carry resentment toward Legolas.

The top of the ravine was gained, and the day dulled to gray around them as clouds covered the sun. The twins rode well ahead with Mithrandir for the most part keeping up. Thus it was that no one was paying any heed to Legolas or to Glorfindel when the older elf dropped back beside Legolas once the trail widened enough to allow two to ride abreast.

"Are you the self-appointed rear-guard?" Glorfindel inquired.

Legolas shrugged. "It seems a good idea, though my original intent was only to keep Mithrandir ahead, so that I might ascertain his skills aboard the mare we assigned him. At the very least, I can collect him if he slides off."

Glorfindel nodded. "He seems to be doing well enough."

"He does indeed." Legolas thought. The mare in question took the opportunity at that moment to snatch at the greenery growing along the side of the trail. Mithrandir wheezed at the sudden stop. "Well enough for the most part."

"It's a two week journey to Dol Guldur," the older elf commented. "Elrond was worried whether you can prepare me in so short a time."

"Descriptions will serve you little, my lord. I can offer warnings, but entry into the fortress itself will inform far better than anything I might say."

"Then how shall we pass the two weeks?" Glorfindel persisted. "We all bore easily. Has Mithrandir brought along fireworks and a pocket dragon to amuse?"

"Of course he has," said Legolas as they caught up to the wizard in question. "Why else would we bring him along?"

Mithrandir rocked back and stared at the younger elf. "My purpose is to messenger back to Saruman whatever you two scoundrels might discover in that Valar-forsaken fortress."

Glorfindel shrugged. "Nice to know you're not just here to take in the view and eat your share of the rabbits we snare for supper." Leaning out, he patted the wizard's mare on the rump, and she agreeably moved off as their horses drew alongside her.

"Indeed."

"Now that we've settled that," said Glorfindel, "perhaps Legolas has a few questions he'd like to ask now that we're alone?"

"Questions? What sort of questions?"

Glorfindel untangled his mount's mane. "You've lived with Elrond a number of weeks, while I have lived with him a number of years. Is there anything you'd like to know about our esteemed host while he's not around to censor the conversation? Something you'd dare not ask the twins, but know I'd safely gossip about?"

"Gossip?" Mithrandir sounded incredulous. "Glorfindel, you are a fount of truth and knowledge. You never gossip."

"Of course I don't. What was I thinking?"

Legolas thought a moment. He did have questions, but didn't want to voice them when anyone else was near. Mithrandir wasn't a problem, but the twins might be if the conversation was to waft close enough for them to hear. "May I consider your offer?"

"Consider away, my prince. If you think of anything, you know where to find me." Beaming at Legolas, Glorfindel urged his mount forward and so missed the frown the younger elf gave him.

"'My prince' is it?" Mithrandir humphed. "I thought only Elrond called you that."

"He does." Legolas glowered after the Elf-lord. "If Glorfindel does it again, I shall have to speak to him. I am no one's prince but--"

Clamping closed his mouth, Legolas lifted his chin and looked across at Mithrandir in open defiance, as if daring him to challenge or ridicule what Legolas had very nearly admitted.

"Hmmm..." said Mithrandir, gray eyes twinkling and mouth turning up at the corners so that his beard twitched. "So that's the way it is, is it?"

"The way what is?"

Straightening in the saddle, Mithrandir stroked his beard and squinted at the forest path. "I should look to the road, you know? Terrible habit, allowing myself to be distracted like that." Dropping the reins momentarily, he patted down his robes. "Where did I put that pipeweed?"

"Mithrandir--"

"Ah, here it is. Now to find my pipe, and the morning will be that much more pleasant. Look about you, Legolas, and what do you see? A fine spring morning, an adventurous outing with wonderful friends, and we're all on our way to Dol Guldur. What more could anyone possibly want?"

"A better destination!" Legolas snapped. He waited until the wizard had found and lit his pipe. Bitter smoke wafted through the air, headed straight for him as if by wizardly design. Waving aside the smoke and choking on the stench, Legolas shook his head. "Some days, Mithrandir, you are impossible."

"Me? What?" Innocence filled the wide blue eyes. The wizard took the time to blow smoke rings that just happened to drift in the Elf's direction, causing his horse to snort in irritation. "What did I do?"

Shaking his head by way of reply, Legolas booted his gelding into a canter to leave the smelly smoke and impossible wizard behind.

* * *

One of the twins shook Legolas awake. It was impossible to tell which one it was in the moonlight, but from the silence Legolas suspected it to be Elrohir. Waking instantly, Legolas was on his feet and reached for his bow, was making sure his knives when Glorfindel joined him. Departing the camp, the two Elves diverted to check on Mithrandir, only to discover he was snoring softly in his sleep.

"He still smells of pipeweed," observed Glorfindel.

"He ever smells of pipeweed," Legolas rejoined, falling into step beside the Elf-lord. "I tracked him from the scent alone whenever he came to call in Mirkwood."

"Small wonder then that, given the exquisite sense of smell Wraiths possess, he dares not venture inside Dol Guldur."

They settled in a tree not far from their camp as had become their habit over the past weeks, climbing high enough to observe and defend yet not so high that their sight was obstructed.

Legolas broke the easy silence long minutes later, once he was certain the twins were asleep and could hear nothing of the conversation. "I know that a few days have passed since you offered to answer any questions I might have regarding Elrond, but are you still willing?"

"Of course."

"Then tell me of Celebrian."

"Celebrian?" Sighing deeply, Glorfindel stared up at the moon for a long moment. "Celebrian is not Elrond, young one, and not what I promised to discuss."

Legolas did not reply, uncertain if he had overstepped some boundary of propriety with this question.

Glorfindel sighed before continuing. "I suppose it is no surprise that you would wish to hear of her before all else. Elrond has told me that their marriage was a failure from the beginning. The twins and Arwen are its only light."

"Why did they bond, then?"

"Elrond bonded for love, Celebrian did not. This, Elrond did not know at the time. She felt that joining with him was the best she could do, for your older brother would not have her and no other elf-lords were about. Elrond was young and naive regarding matters of the heart fifty-five hundred years ago, but he remained neither young nor naive for long. You know that he is called the Peredhil--the half-elven--and ever Celebrian resented this and thought less of him for it, even to the point of being unable to bear his touch for any length of time. She avoided Elrond for years on end, visiting her parents in Lothlorien and ignoring as much as was possible that she had taken him for a mate. You know the story of her capture and abuse by Orcs?"

"I know that she was waylaid while returning to Imladris, and that the twins managed to locate and save her."

Glorfindel nodded. "Elrond was able to heal her physical wounds, but some deep injury remained that he could not touch, or that she would not allow him to touch. She sailed oversea in hopes of easing the agony of her memories, but that hope proved false with her death. Perhaps she will petition Mandos to return to life without the memories she has, or perhaps she has chosen oblivion. In any case, Elrond felt her die and their bond shatter. They are lost to each other, and Elrond is now free."

Shifting uneasily, Glorfindel braced his back against the trunk of the tree, laid his bow more comfortably across his lap. "My bottom is going numb," he muttered irritably.

"Did Elrond foresee all of this?" Legolas pursued.

"He suspected it might come when she could not bear to remain here with him. While joined with her, Elrond learned well to hope for the best, yet prepare for the worst. Until a few weeks ago, he was trapped in a loveless bond. I know that little has changed with his being set free."

"Thranduil has seen to that." Bitterness tinged Legolas's voice.

"Thranduil?" Glorfindel shook his head. "Regardless your betrothal, Thranduil is not responsible for Elrond's aloneness. Neither are you, my pri... Erm, little prince," Glorfindel amended, seeing the look of death Legolas shot him. "Elrond's aloneness began long before you and your father's schemes were conceived, when Elrond's brother, Elros, chose a mortal life and subsequently died. Gil-galad's death at Dagorlad contributed to Elrond's isolation and responsibilities in ways we can never understand. He is always alone, always surrounded by responsibilities. There has been no real happiness in his life. Until you came to Imladris, there was only duty."

Glittering blue eyes found Legolas's in the moonlight. "You must know that you are making him forget Celebrian. He does not miss her or resent her dying. He only hopes that, whatever happens, she finds peace. In many ways, his trust in love was shattered, but then so was yours. No matter what Celebrian did, Elrond has three beautiful children who love him. And he has the sanctuary that is Imladris. He also has you, if you will allow it, which is a far better outcome than I had hoped for him. Are you coming to love him, Legolas?"

"He is a good friend," Legolas said carefully.

Glorfindel nodded and considered for a moment. "For now, I think that is more than enough."

* * *

The Mirkwood scout glared through the moonlight and shifted slightly to get a clearer view through the thick leaves of the thorn bush. Careful to disturb neither twig nor leaf that might inform the two Elves on watch of his presence, he nodded and backed away from his quarry.

He relished the thought of returning to Thranduil's hall and sharing what he had discovered. Cold morning would see him there and on his knees before his king to relay how he had discovered Thranduil's youngest and most disobedient son dallying with some new friends just outside of Mirkwood's borders. The scout's efforts would find favor with his king, a rarity these days, and he found that he actually anticipated giving this report.

Circling the intruders' camp, the scout further discovered that their tracks were leading into Mirkwood rather than out. Five was the number of their mounts, and further careful observation revealed that Legolas was traveling with three strange Elves and a snoring Mithrandir.

Who the other Elves were, the scout neither cared nor wished to find out. They were Imladris elves most likely and of no importance beyond the fact that they wandered with Mirkwood's escapee. The scout wanted no names. Neither, he suspected, would Thranduil. All the king would care about was that his unmanageable son had returned unbonded.

One thing the scout could report with total confidence: the tall, thin Elf sharing watch with the wayward one resembled in no way, shape or form the dark, somber, formidable Half-Elven of Imladris.

Clearly, then, Mirkwood's youngest prince had no intention of fulfilling the promise he had made to his king. The scout suspected that while he would be rewarded handsomely for his intelligence, the fate awaiting Legolas would be far less pleasant. The scout hesitated at that thought, then shrugged. Legolas' fate was not his concern, nor could it have any impact on what was to come next. The scouting elf's duty was clear, and it was time to see it to its conclusion with all possible speed. Slipping into the shadows, the scout turned toward the Mirkwood stronghold and disappeared.


	18. Chapter 18

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Lightning flashed and thunder rolled. It was a fierce storm for so early in the season, but its violence continued unabated. The trees whipped hard about in the wind while a blinding rain lashed all of Imladris. The storm had driven everyone indoors hours ago at sunset, for all that it had been too dark to tell the time, and Elrond was contented that it should be so. Seated alone in his library, the Elf-lord twisted Vilya round and round on his middle finger while watching the water creep higher and higher across the grass, ever closer to his beloved books.

So engrossed was he in counting the days, hours and minutes since he had last seen Legolas, so lost was he in letting his dark mood find its match in the fury of the weather, that Elrond very nearly didn't hear the clatter of horses' hooves on the courtyard's cobbles outside. Almost didn't hear, over the howling wind, his sons' voices shouting with a panic Elrond had not heard since they had carried home their mother, half-dead. But hear them Elrond did, attuned as he was to the pitch and timbre of those voices since Elladan and Elrohir had first drawn breath to cry at their birth.

The Elf-lord's heart pounded, his breathing came fast and shallow as he bolted through the library, out through the main doors, and down the steps into the courtyard. He was in time to see Elrohir leap from his white gelding and take the steps two at a time, while Elladan paused only to command both their mounts to stand, steaming and shivering, at the base of the steps in the cold rain.

His sons were alone. Glorfindel was not with them, nor was--

Elrond's heart nearly stopped.

The twins carried no limp form in their arms as they came this time, but their alarm was no less than the last time they had stood here in fear. Water poured over Elrond, instantly plastering his robes to his body as he stood shivering as well, and Elrohir skidded to a stop at the head of the steps.

"They took him," the usually silent twin gasped, wiping water from his eyes. "Dol Guldur was safely behind us, Mithrandir had departed for Orthanc. We were beyond Mirkwood's borders, and they took him. While he was on watch. I told him he shouldn't be alone. Told him--"

"We both told him, Father." Elladan slid up beside his brother. "Glorfindel offered to watch with him, but Legolas said no, that Glorfindel needed to rest after Dol Guldur. The Wraiths had been averted. Truly, we thought the danger had passed. We all believed it to be so."

Elrond's heart constricted in his chest. "The Wraiths took him?"

"No."

"We'd have heard them screaming, or felt them and awoke if they had been near."

"Then who took him?" Elrond demanded, taking Elrohir's arm and very nearly snarling. "Tell me."

"We found his bow."

"And his arrows in their quiver."

"Unbuckled. As if he had set it on the ground and walked away."

"His knives were in their sheathes."

"Undrawn."

"He didn't fight. The grass was undisturbed."

"He took only his horse."

"He could have awakened us with but a word, but--"

"But he didn't because--"

"WHO TOOK HIM?" Elrond thundered.

Elrohir jumped back, startled. "We think he knew his captures, else he'd have fought. Whoever it was, we think they took him to Thranduil."

"The trail led into Mirkwood, Adar. They took him home." Elladan fell silent and could no longer meet his father's gaze.

Horror and mortification reflected in Elrohir's grey eyes. "We failed him."

"We will get him back," Elrond ground out. "Come with me."

Whirling, he strode up back into Imladris and headed for his private chambers with his sons on his heels.

"Glorfindel stayed behind, said he'd watch the fortress and talk to any guards who would talk to him," Elladan continued, as he all but trotted along in the wake of his father's sweeping stride. "Glorfindel knows some of them."

"Glorfindel said he'd visited Mirkwood before settling here with us." Elrohir was babbling now, and Elrond idly realized that this was the most he'd ever heard his son say. He could also hear his son's teeth chatter with the cold and the stress.

"Glorfindel traveled with Mithrandir," Elrohir relayed. "He introduced the wizard to Thranduil."

Pushing into the inner bedchamber, Elrond pulled his longsword down from the wall. It desperately needed oiling, but there was no time, it would have to be tended on the road. Elrond claimed its sheath a moment later. Sliding home the sharp blade, Elrond blessed the Elven workmanship that saw its leather as strong and supple as the day it had been tooled.

"We went to relieve Legolas and found his weapons on the edge of the glade," Elladan relayed. "We brought them home, they're downstairs tied to my horse." He stared to see his father stripping off his wet robes. "Adar, what are you doing?"

Throwing back the lid of a trunk, Elrond retrieved a set of light armor with a mail overskirt and belt. "I am going to bring Legolas home."

"You're... leaving Imladris?"

"It's the only way to reach him. Thranduil isn't going to deliver him here to me again."

"Let us change, Ada, into something dry--"

"Why bother?" snapped Elladan. "We'd only be soaked again before we reached the horses. But we'll need new horses. Ours are exhausted, pushed too far. We'll ready yours as well, Adar."

"No," replied Elrond. "You two must remain here. You're exhausted as well."

"Adar, you can't go alone!"

"It took you two weeks to reach me. It will take another two weeks for me to reach Legolas. I do not know how long it will take for us to return, and so the two of you must govern Imladris in my absence. You will need this." Removing the ring of power from his finger, Elrond waited for it to wink into physical existence before pressing it into Elrohir's palm. The jewel winked in the candlelight.

"What?..." Elrond's son stared at the ring, slack-jawed.

"Vilya. It will shield this sanctuary from darkness and intruders. It will also obey your thoughts, so be careful what you think. As your first task, you may concentrate on aiding my journey by stopping the rain within Imladris's borders."

"This is... This ring is one of... of..." Peering down at the ring in his brother's hand, Elladan poked at the metal. "Adar, this is one of the original three? Gifted to the Elven rulers?"

"It is. Use it wisely, my sons."

"No," Elrohir breathed. "Take it back, Ada. It -- it belongs in your hands, not mine. Sweet Elbereth, you can't go."

"I will go." Pulling the armor over his head, Elrond buckled on his sword and cast about for his boots. "I will bring Legolas home."

"You'll need something for the journey ahead," Elladan insisted, following close on his father's heels as they left the bedchamber and headed down the stairs, into Elrond's library.

Elrohir followed somewhat more slowly behind them, staring at the the ring cradled in the palm of his hand and whispering dreads and wonderments that neither Elf-lord nor twin brother had the time or the inclination to pay any attention to.

"I need only lembas and water." Rummaging in a library drawer, Elrond tossed an oilcloth pack at Elladan. "Please see to it, my son, as quickly as possible."

"You'll need snares for rabbits and flint to start--"

"I will start no fires, snare no rabbits. I will travel straight through, stopping only to rest the horses. In that way, I will reach Legolas sooner."

Striding out to the stables, Elrond was only marginally aware of Elrohir and Elladan consulting with each other. Elladan broke off from their group before reaching the gate guarding the fields--hopefully to get the requested lembas and water. Elrond went first to Assassin's stall, to stroke the velvet nose when the stallion's head appeared over the stall door.

"Would that you were sound and could carry me on this journey," Elrond whispered.

Assassin was not, and a final caress was all that Elrond could spare before turning away and considering other equine candidates. The Elf-lord was sick to realize that most of the alternates had lost wind and strength as well in the fire. Time and new breedings would replace what had been lost, but time was a luxury Elrond did not have this night.

He finally settled on two broad-chested, well-built stallions that had escaped the fire. Both were fully trained, but only one had been tested in actual battle. Elrond did not know how he or they would fare if it came to that. He knew only that they were swift and strong and well-favored by both Legolas and Glorfindel. Surely they would carry him safely to Mirkwood and back.

"You will be as safe as we can make you, Adar," Elrohir whispered behind him.

The next words Elrond heard was Elrohir urgently urging Vilya to stop the rain, to clear the skies, and let the light of Elbereth watch over him on this journey--Elrond's first in hundreds of years. Elrohir watched the jewel cradled in his palm, hesitated, poked at the ring with an insistent forefinger, then began his entreaties to the ring again.

A broad hand closed over Elrohir's palm, which still cradled the ring of power. Elrond's other hand stroked down his son's soaking wet hair.

"You must put on the ring if you wish it to serve you," the Elf-lord took the time to relay, speaking with a calm he was far from feeling. Taking the ring, he slid it onto his son's middle finger. "For your own safety and that of Imladris, Vilya and its power should be kept secret from all but Elladan."

Elrohir gasped as the ring winked out of view, becoming invisible even to him. He rubbed a finger over it, as if to reassure himself it was still there.

"Yours is now the gift of foresight, Elrohir, be it blessing or curse," Elrond continued. "Yours is also the responsibility of looking after our people."

Capturing his son's hand, Elrond also gained his attention. "Gil-galad gave Vilya to me moments before he was lost in battle, and he left me with as much information and guidance as I leave with you now. Vilya's power helps guard Imladris and all within this valley. The ring is powerful, but it will obey your will. Don't be afraid of it. Counsel with your brother whenever you feel a decision must be made. Together, you will do well, and I shall return in no time."

Elrond turned back to ready his mounts.

"How does it work?" Elrohir whispered.

"Vilya sees whatever you envision. If such a manifestation is within the ring's power, it will see it done. In this way you can control the weather, ease a mother's pain in childbirth, seek to sense the movements of your enemies, and shield Imladris itself from unwelcome eyes. For the moment, return to concentrating on clearing the skies, and let me see to Legolas."

Elrohir nodded jerkily, then squinted at the rain briefly before returning to his whispered conversation with his hand.

Elladan appeared with a satchel of supplies and a black cloak as Elrond prepared to mount.

"The rain is clearing," he announced, settling the heavy cloak over his father's shoulders before strapping two bulging oilskin packs over the stallions.

"That is well." Elrond spared a smile for the still-trembling Elrohir. "Well done."

Elrohir looked momentarily relieved at his success and stood aside with his brother while Elrond finished preparing the horses. Closing his eyes momentarily, he explained to each war-horse where they were going and what might be expected of them.

[The kind one has need of you,] he relayed, sending a strong image to them of Legolas as they had seen him last, at Elrond's side. [Will you help me save him as he fought to save your friends?]

"Adar." Elladan laid a hand on his father's arm once Elrond was astride the horse. "Please take one of us with you. I will go."

Elrond shook his head. "You must both stay here and guard Imladris. If I do not return, this sanctuary is yours. Your task is to keep it and yourselves safe."

Turning his mount, he headed for the same exit Legolas had taken only days before. Behind him trotted the second, younger war-horse, eager to be off and prove himself.

No further farewells were exchanged. The only sound was the horses splashing through the puddle at the gate.

* * *

Elrond relinquished all control to the stallions and let them set their own pace. They ran together, ecstatic at their unexpected freedom. They were also aware of their rider's anxiety, answering his urgency with speed and knowing what was needed to carry the Elf-lord to their other elf-friend, to fly the night away. Vilya's power had stopped the rain as far as Imladris's borders, and the unrelenting, cold rain invaded their journey all too soon.

Pounding down the beckoning open road, the stallions abandoned it at every opportunity, flying through thick forest and over fallen trees to ford rivers and gullies with a surefootedness that terrified Elrond as much as it reassured him that he'd chosen the right companions for this journey.

The horses agreed upon their path without consulting their rider, leaving him a mere passenger as they followed paths only they could see. They carried the Elf-lord easily on the night-wind and through the still-blinding rain, shaving off valuable minutes at Elrond's quiet urging. He relaxed into the trust he shared with these creatures, letting them see him safely to Legolas. Elrond knew that they could not continue indefinitely like this, but they shared his eagerness to reach Mirkwood, and he let them go as they would as he held onto the hope that Legolas would be waiting safe at the end of their days-long journey.

Bending low to the stallion's neck, Elrond let him make his own way while the Elf-lord's thoughts traveled on. [He was right. Legolas was right.]

Elrond groaned under that knowledge. Was Legolas also right to assume that Thranduil's rage at their not bonding would have more serious consequences than his locking Legolas in a dungeon cell? Legolas had not fallen to the Wraiths in Dol Guldur, so what had been the warning behind Elrond's grim vision?

[His captors were not brave enough to try taking him on the way into Dol Guldur,] Elrond reflected. [The risk of alerting both Wraiths and those Legolas traveled with was too great. And so, his attackers must have watched and waited until the mission was completed, until Mithrandir had lessened their strength by leaving. They had the patience to wait until Legolas was alone, knowing that he would choose to surrender rather than endanger his companions, regardless those companions were obviously from Imladris.]

Tree branches whipped at Elrond's face: he barely felt them. [Legolas is clearly unbonded, clearly still only Thranduil's son and not my mate,] his thoughts hurtled on. [Legolas was discovered and ordered taken, exactly as he foresaw. Of that, I have no doubt.]

Elrond changed mounts soon and circling once to get his bearings by the moon before heading off again. Still his thoughts cycled, flooded with fury, blame and regret.

"I love him," Elrond whispered into a velvet ear, which flicked back toward him, listening. "I want him back safe with me in Imladris, as safe as my own sons."

Elrond halted their journey at dawn, when the threat of orcs attacking was lessened and the horses could graze and rest in peace. The night would be Elrond's day for weeks to come, and what little sleep he allowed himself would be found in full sunlight.

Dreams of Legolas haunted his waking sleep--how could they not--with some so vivid that Elrond found himself burying his nose in his beloved's hair to inhale the fresh scent of it. Hugging the lithe, muscular body to him, the Elf-lord drew back to see vivid blue eyes staring up at him, trusting and wary all at once.

More than once, Elrond awoke at sunset from such a dream with the horses circling restlessly beneath the tree where he had taken shelter, having learned Elrond's schedule and urging him to the night's run.

It rained the entire way, days and days of it, until Elrond blessed his son for giving him the cloak that wicked the water away and keep him relatively dry. The rain was cold and constantly in his face, so that it touched even an Elf: his skin and his lips grew numb.

He pushed to travel twenty hours a day, allowing the horses only four hours of rest and knowing that he was treading dangerously close to the limits of their endurance. They made no complaints, only adjusted to his demands and slept more deeply during the day, occasionally even collapsing to stretch out in the grass for a few moments of slumber.

Regardless Elrond's watchcare, he lost the older stallion a week and a half into the journey: orcs waylaid them as the three travelers prepared to cross a swift-moving river at dusk. Drawing his sword, Elrond fought them off as the young stallion beneath him reared and struck out with flashing hooves before and behind.

The orcs quickly abandoned their efforts, turning instead to concentrate on the other horse that seemed easier prey. Rolling back an eye, the older stallion bared his teeth and lunged at the closest orcs. Whirling in a circle, the stallion bucked continuously to slam the nearest attackers against trees and boulders. Rearing, he slammed others, stomped them to death.

The older stallion bellowed loudly when Elrond urged his mount closer to the fight. Shaking his head in their direction, the stallion bellowed again and Elrond felt the animal beneath him tremble.

Abruptly and without warning, the younger stallion deliberately disobeyed Elrond. Whirling, it crouched and leaped into the flowing river beside them, to carry an unwilling Elf-lord away from the fight. Tears blinded Elrond as the stallion left behind bellowed his approval and screamed with a furious determination. Clinging to the mane, Elrond looked back in time to see the war-horse fight closer to the river in an effort to follow his companions. For a moment, Elrond thought the horse just might make it, but a sudden shower of blood from the stallion's white belly told him an orc had managed to get in what would prove to be a fatal blow.

The orcs cackled as the war-horse crashed down, screaming in pain. Mercifully, the screaming stopped as the roar of the river drowned out all other sounds. Turning away, the Elf-lord knew that they were alone on their journey now.

Carried but a short distance downstream, Elrond's remaining mount swam for the farther shore and stumbled out of the water. Sliding off of the stallion's back, the Elf-lord clung to the mane and breathed heavily. Resheathing the sword he still held in his hand, Elrond wiped the rain from his eyes and gazed across the river to where something large and shining white lay still on the ground. The orcs surrounding it leaped and danced in obvious delight.

Circling slowly around Elrond, the remaining stallion called to his friend, but there was no answer. Laying a hand across the horse's withers, Elrond tangled his fingers in the long mane and leaned against the wet hide as the ribs heaved beneath him, pulling in great, panting breaths.

"Peace be with you, my friend," Elrond whispered to the distant shore. "May you walk with Elbereth and run forever with the other companions of your life who were parted too soon from us as well."

The young stallion walked away from the shore and headed into the surrounding trees. Halting, he looked back as if to make certain Elrond was following. [Horse-friend is no more. Elf-friend is waiting.] The thought was all but shoved into Elrond's mind.

"Yes. Legolas is waiting." Elrond followed the horse.

When the river could no longer be seen, the stallion turned back to nuzzle Elrond's hand. Weary and heartsick, Elrond climbed astride the animal. Grasping the mane with both hands, he swore softly through gritted teeth and took a moment to hug the shining neck. The moon was rising. The clouds were clearing, the rain had stopped.

"Thank you for saving my life. We have lost one friend, we shall not lose another. Can you continue on?" he asked softly of the stallion.

The horse walked further into the moonlit forest. The rain had been nothing to this one, the cold meant even less as the stallion walked on, seeming to search for something. Another few minutes, and the horse had found a narrow game trail. Breaking into a smooth canter, the animal forged ahead without hesitation. Elrond ran a hand down the horse's neck in thanks, hoping that his gratitude was understood.

"Death will not claim another, and Thranduil shall not have Legolas," Elrond growled, settling into the rhythm of the horse. "He is ours."


	19. Chapter 19

CHAPTER NINETEEN

**Sinking deeper into the warmth of the bed and burying his nose in the soft pillow, Legolas smiled to hear Elrond moving about in the outer chamber. The low rumble of the Elf-lord's voice offered comfort, as did the reflected light of the fire dancing on the walls. Closing his eyes, Legolas drifted off into sleep. Moments later, he felt the bed dip and Elrond's body pressed close against his back. A long arm snaked around his middle, and the Elf-lord's other hand reached up to comb his fingers through Legolas' hair. Murmuring softly in contentment, Legolas shivered at the affectionate gesture, only to come bolt upright and gasp when Elrond bit his neck hard enough to draw blood. **

Waking abruptly from a fevered dream, Legolas grabbed the rat scrabbling for purchase on his shoulder and flung it hard away. The rodent slammed against the far wall of the cell with a satisfying thud. The moment of silence following the impact was broken when the scratching sound of claws on stone marked the rush forward as the stunned rat was set upon violently by its fellows. Tumbling and biting in the darkness, they feasted on the welcome meal while Legolas subsided against the damp rock wall of the cell. The rats were not terribly picky about dining while their meal was still among the living, as he knew all to intimately, but at least he would have a few moments respite before they turned his way again.

Wiping a hand down his neck, the elf felt the sticky warmth of his own blood. Shivering, he pressed closer to the wet cell corner he'd claimed and rolled tighter into himself.

His waking dreams had gone beyond nightmares to the point that Legolas feared he had begun hallucinating. Tortured by memories of Imladris whenever he dared to close his eyes, the Elf fought to stay awake. There were other reasons to stay ever watchful and avoid surrendering to sleep, for the starving creatures he shared the dungeon cell had proven all too willing to eat him alive. If Legolas dared to be still for any amount of time or let himself fall into sleep, the rats leaped on his feet or gnawed at his arms. Their particular treat seemed to be the ends of his fingers.

Legolas knew all too well the rats' hunger and desperation, for he shared it. Mithrandir had brought food and light the first time Thranduil's youngest had been imprisoned beneath the stone keep. The wizard had not bothered to seek the king's permission, and Thranduil had pointedly ignored Mithrandir's kindness and compassion. At that time too, the wizards' visits served Thranduil's purpose: the old man came to ask if Legolas yielded to his father's demands that he go to Imladris and be bonded to Elrond. The fact that the messenger brought a meal with him was of no interest to the King.

Now, apparently, the delivery of food still was not of any interest to Thranduil, as none ever appeared in Legolas' dank cell. The elf accepted that his father had no interest in him. No bonding had taken place in Imladris, and Legolas suspected his father had no further demands - or use - for his disobedient son. No one would come because Thranduil required no answer this time. For that matter, Legolas thought the king probably didn't require a son any longer either. Let the rats gnaw, there was no reason to prevent it.

With no cycle of light and dark to guide him, Legolas had lost track of how long he had been captive. Last time, he had spent six weeks in the darkness. There had been no rats attacking him, or at least there had been food enough to satisfy their hunger before they began eyeing him as a food source. Last time, his cell had been dry. Last time, there had been a voice that had spoken to him kindly from time to time.

This time, the small cell assigned to Legolas abutted the river. Early exploration in the darkness had informed him that foul water unfit for drinking all but buried a twisted corner grate that was too small for him to fit through, which made escape impossible. Unfortunately, it was not too small for the rats to gain entrance.

Water pooled on the dirt floor, rising through the grate when the river ran high. Between exploring the possibilities for escape and Legolas' constant pacing in the early days, he had churned the water to mud. How many days had it been since he had sank to the dirt floor, despairing of ever gaining his freedom? He had no idea. Not that it mattered, keeping track of the rising and setting of the sun. Likely he'd never see the sun again.

No one came this time at all, not even the odd guard to check on him, and the silence beyond the iron door told Legolas that the rest of the dungeon was deserted. It was as if he lay forgotten by everyone in Mirkwood and everyone beyond its borders as well. As for Thranduil himself, Legolas had not seen his father before being cast into the dungeon.

His longing for a bit of food was fading as the days passed, and the easing of the gnawing hunger as his belly accepted the inevitable was a mercy. But more than that, Legolas longed to be warm and dry and clean. He longed also to look on Elrond one last time before he died, to thank the Elf-lord for the comfort of his home and the gentle ministrations of his heart and his hands. To thank Elrond for showing Legolas what it was like to feel welcomed and loved.

Sometimes, he thought perhaps he was going mad in the darkness. He had come to fear that all he remembered, all he had come to love while with Elrond had been nothing but a dream created by his fevered brain in the confines of the dank cell. But how could it all have been a dream when the very seal of Elrond's house was still seared into the palm of Legolas's hand?

Taking a desperate, deep comfort in the scarring, Legolas traced it over and over again, closing his fingers and cradling his hand to his chest, and smiling to remember the close care Elrond had taken with the injury. Legolas remembered too the small comforts and caresses he had been gifted with during his stay in the Elf-lord's sanctuary. No one other than Elrond knew of the seal and no one would, so that no one could take it from Legolas.

Not even the rats, he thought as clenched his fingers fiercely around the branded palm. Not while I still live. After that, the rats and the river were welcome to have their way with his flesh and his bones. The guards that had set upon Legolas on the borders of Mirkwood had made him lose his beloved knives, had made him leave his beloved bow on the forest floor, but nothing could separate him from the deep, scorching scar that marked him and reminded him that once, in all but body, he had belonged to the Lord of Imladris.

Sometimes Legolas dreamed of Elrond riding over the long miles that separated Imladris from Mirkwood. He dreamed of the Elf-lord coming to rescue him as Elrond had promised to do. Even as the dream comforted his heart, it panicked his mind. Elrond should not, could not come for him. Had Legolas himself not warned the Elf-lord to avoid Thranduil, to avoid confrontation elf to elf and kingdom to kingdom, to stay safe in Imladris?

Elrond cannot come, he must stay safely there, Legolas thought in sadness, closing his fingers slowly over the palm of his hand. Thranduil would only hurt and starve him as well.

* * *

The mist had rolled in with the setting sun, thick and heavy to cloak all of Mirkwood in chill gray shadows. Shivering slightly where he was perched in a tree outside of the main gates guarding Thranduil's keep, Glorfindel cocked his head and listened. The sound of a horse's hooves whispered across the damp leaves covering the forest floor, and the Elf-lord peered in vain through the mist. Was a lone horse and rider sneaking through the Mirkwood night, or was the animal only returning home alone after having dumped its rider?

Glorfindel was certain of one thing: the intruder was no one come to help him save Legolas. Barely enough days had passed for the twins to have reached Elrond, much less for any liberators sent by the Lord of Imladris to have reached Mirkwood--except for perhaps an advance scout. More than one champion would need to be sent for any rescue effort to succeed.

The mist swirled and cleared as the horse drew nearer, so that finally Glorfindel could see its rider. Halting only a few feet away, the cloaked figure slid silently to the ground and whispered a command into one velvet ear. No guard from Mirkwood was this: Glorfindel would have recognized the long limbs and large, tense frame of the Lord of Imladris anywhere.

"Elrond," Glorfindel hissed through the mist.

Whirling, the Elf-lord stared up at Glorfindel's tree. Throwing back the hood of his cloak, he locked gazes with his friend a moment before Glorfindel dropped to the forest floor. Elrond's gelding snorted and danced with alarm, but a gentle touch and whispered word was enough to calm the animal.

"I thought you might come," Glorfindel said softly, laying a hand on Elrond's shoulder. "At the same time, I hoped you would not."

"How could I not?"

"By simply stay home and leave the fighting to others." Glorfindel offered a weary smile in answer to the deep frown he got in response. "Who, pray, is protecting Imladris?"

"My sons." Shaking water from his cloak, Elrond glanced at Mirkwood's gates. Torches burned there, winking and hissing in the rain. "Is Legolas within?"

"He is. Those who took him from under our noses were a group of Mirkwood warriors whom Legolas considered his friends. Twice Thranduil has forced them to betray their friendship."

"How do you know this?" The elven lord sought answers, but his gaze never strayed from the gates, as though seeking to see what he desired within.

"They told me. I see them quite often, twice a day in fact. They've opened their hearts and shown me their despair. They've also been quite kind about keeping me informed of goings on within. And they've fed me," he added, almost as an afterthought. "I was not subtle in my pursuit, so all of Mirkwood knows I'm here--including Thranduil I would assume. I couldn't find a way to sneak within, and I've been perched in this tree for days waiting for some opportunity to present itself, so I'm sure they're expecting someone to join me. I doubt, however, that anyone expects the someone to be you. Why did you not tell me that Thranduil imprisoned Legolas and forced him to come to you in Imladris?"

"That sort of betrayal is no one's business," said Elrond. "If Legolas had wanted you to know, he would have told you."

"What sort of a father could do such a thing?"

Elrond pointed toward the gates. "That sort. The sort who would have his son abducted by his friends. The same sort who wished his son to bond with me regardless the misery that would follow." Elrond scowled. "If all of Mirkwood knows you are here, then why have you not gone in to retrieve Legolas?"

"The patrols are quite friendly, but they've made it clear I'm not welcome beyond those gates. They are not afraid of me--what can one Elf do, after all, against all the host of Mirkwood? They are afraid of Thranduil, of what he can do when he is displeased. I think that is what is holding them back. And, therefore, it detains me as well."

"We shall see." There came a sudden tension to Elrond's body, a smoldering fury in his gaze. He gestured imperiously. "Go on."

"Mirkwood knows me from when Mithrandir and I visited before joining you in Imladris. Therein lies the rub: Thranduil knows that I dwell with you, and he won't let me in. While they have been half-expecting a company of Elves to come and offer negotiation for Legolas, you personally have not left Imladris in centuries. In any case, they wouldn't believe that you would come to claim their prince."

"And why not? He is mine."

"Erm... not quite yet he's not. To Thranduil and his minions, your failure to bond with Legolas indicates a significant lack of desire to do so. The gossip has it that Thranduil blames his wayward son for failing to keep his agreement. Privately, the citizens of Imladris believe the responsibility is yours. They say you are certainly grieving the loss of Celebrian and have no interest in taking another mate. Regardless where the blame is laid, the result is the same: Thranduil has thrown Legolas back in the dungeon."

"What?" Elrond hissed.

"It's all quite justified from Thranduil's point of view," Glorfindel said almost conversationally. "Your Elf is accused of deliberately destroying the alliance between Imladris and Mirkwood. Basically, he's been imprisoned for committing treason toward king and kingdom."

"That is absurd."

"That is the tale carried by the guard of Mirkwood."

"Legolas knew this would happen. He tried to warn me, but I would not listen. I thought my authority and my word was enough to keep Thranduil at bay."

Glorfindel eyed his companion. "Why have you not bonded with Legolas? Do you not love him?"

"Of course I love him!" Elrond growled. "I am all too willing to bond with Legolas if he loves me, but he does not. I had hopes that, in time, Legolas might come to regard me with some affection. Obviously, Thranduil is unwilling to give him that time. It is my fault he once more finds himself in whatever black place Thranduil has thrown him."

"Then Legolas' imprisonment is indeed Thranduil's fault," Glorfindal concluded. "He's the one who isn't respecting your betrothal."

Elrond didn't reply, his gaze raking across the gates closed tight and high against him.

"I know where your prince is being kept," Glorfindel offered.

"That's some small progress."

"But as I said, I can't get past the guard," Glofindel continued. "What is your plan of attack?"

"I will walk in and claim what is mine." A deep, calm fury was reflected openly in Elrond's austere face.

"Woe take any Elf who thinks to stand between the Lord of Imladris and his love," said Glorfindel. "But what is your plan?"

"But what is your plan?" Glorfindel demanded.

"I am going in the front door."

"Right down their throats?" Glorfindel worried his lip and nodded. "Suicidal but effective. I like it. I'll go with you."

* * *

The two Elf-lords exploded from the treeline at a gallop, riding abreast and pushing for Mirkwood's gates. Swords held aloft, they bellowed as if battle-crazed, which Glorfindel had every reason to suspect Elrond was. Running to the gates from every corner of Mirkwood, the guards assembled a line of defense, drew their weapons, and yelled a warning.

Elrond growled a command, and the horse beneath him surged forward. Glorfindel knew that gelding, knew him to have only only five summers under his hooves and green battle-training by none other than Glorfindel himself. Still, the gelding had a greater stride that the horse Glorfindel rode and so, left behind despite himself, Glorfindel watched in helpless disbelief as Elrond's horse carried himself and his rider ever closer to the band of elves who were sworn to defend, even if it meant destroying and Elf-lord. the Lord of Imladris.

Or two.

Shouting his own command, Glorfindel rode to catch up. Only a few yards away, the guard showed no signs of breaking as Elrond rode them down.

"Will you ride through them to your death?" Glorfindel yelled as Elrond lowered his sword and set himself in balance. "That will certainly help Legolas."

Leaning over his horse's neck, Elrond gave no answer but urged his companion to even greater speed. Surely the line will break, thought Glorfindel. Surely it will not, said the set faces of the guard.

Glorfindel sensed Elrond's command the moment it was given. Resisting the urge to close his eyes and avoid seeing his dearest friend impaled on Mirkwood spears and swords, Glorfindel watched helplessly as Elrond's mount gathered himself and leaped over the heads of the Mirkwood guard. Oh, Elbereth, he did it.

Having watched Elrond for far too long, Glorfindel was ill-prepared to execute the same move. Pulling up, he wheeled his gelding about and watched the guard falter. Should they go after the Lord of Imladris who was now clattering his way over the cobbles up to the keep's front door, or should they reform to confront the second Elf-lord who was riding back now to attempt the same move as his predecessor?

Glorfindel evidently did not look as deadly as the Elf-lord that had tried to trample them, so they turned their attentions back to Glorfindel and reformed their line. Setting himself, Glorfindel rode hard at them. Circling his sword slowly over his head, he bellowed a challenge in his native Gondolic - a tongue all but lost with Gondolin's fall, but still good for bloodcurdling curses whose meaning was clear in any language.

This is fun, thought the Elf-lord seconds before reaching the line of ashen-faced, shaking Elves who broke ranks at the last minute. Haven't had a good fight in at least an age. Scattering, they fell back as the waves of the sea parted on the shores of the Grey Havens for Cirdan's ships.

He caught up with Elrond just as the Elven lord kicked open the heavy wooden door to Thranduil's keep, caught the guard waiting beyond on the nose and sent him sprawling. There was muffled howling, followed by rather moist cursing as the guard tried to stem the flow of blood from his nose, which he seemed to find far more pressing than the intruder himself.

"I think you broke his nose," Glorfindel observed idly, slapping Elrond's cloak aside as it threatened to tangle Glorfindel in it.

A healer Elrond might have been, but he spared not a glance at his bleeding victim before heading for the next guard in line. Raising his sword, the Elf-lord growled, "I am Elrond, Lord of Imladrism, I mean you no harm. I have come to claim my prince, and you will let me pass."

Giving a slight bow and saluting, the guard fell back. Elrond stalked on.

I'd find it hard to believe he meant me no harm if he held that sword over me, Glorfindel decided. He grinned and nodded at the startled guard before following Elrond.

"I am Lord Glorfindel of the House of the Golden Flower," he called over his shoulder. "It's good to see you again, Daeron. Please give Thranduil our regards, as I don't believe Elrond has a mind to pay him the courtesy of a personal visit. Hope you and yours are well."

"Thank you, Lord Glorfindel," Daeron said cheerfully. "Always a pleasure to have such honored guests in hall.

"Where are these dungeons?" Elrond bellowed ahead of him.

"Two more corridors, then turn left. No, not that corridor, THAT one. You're wanting that hallway, and mind the stairs, they're slick. The dungeons are below."

A lone guard was posted at the stairway. A wobbling sword was raised to block Elrond's path, the young Elf's face a mask of determination and fear. "My lord, I cannot allow--"

Elrond slapped the blade aside, loomed over the elf and glowered. "Get by."

Sliding up beside the Elf-lord, Glorfindel smiled. "Probably a good idea if you'd like keep all appendages. We'll tell everyone that you tried your best to stop us."

The Elf nodded nervous agreement to Glorfindel and backed hastily out of the way.

"Keys would be a nice afterthought," the Elf-lord mentioned, holding out his hand.

The retreating guard pitched something toward them before diving around a bend in the corridor, and a ring of keys came sliding across the stones to stop just inches before Glorfindel's boots. Snatching them up, he handed them to Elrond.

"I'll guard your back. Go get your prince."

Sheathing his sword, Elrond accepted the keys and took a torch from its wall sconce. The stairs were wet and slick, he took special care descending them. All below was black and silent, except for the steady, maddening drip of water on stone. Reaching the bottom of the steps, Elrond was confronted by a three-way intersection of tunnels. Cells appeared to line each one.

"Which cell, Glorfindel?" he shouted up the stairs.

"The one furthest from where you are standing, closest to the river."

Elrond took the right fork. The corridor was far too long and narrow for Elrond's liking, its air was dank and foul. Reaching the end at long last, Elrond surveyed the heavy door confronting him. The corridor had flooded in years past, so that silt and dirt and the Valar knew what else had settled against ancient stone and wood and iron. None of the other doors had been opened, but it looked like this one had., for thick waste had been shoved back recently along its hinge-track, and the keyhole of the original locking mechanism was rubbed cleaner than the rest of the door. A new level of wrath claimed Elrond as he eyed a shiny new lock gracing the crampon that held shut the door.

His sword sang, and the lock shattered. Swinging open the cell door, he held the torch high to peer into the gloom beyond. A quick sweep of the small area revealed it to be empty of his golden prince. But it was not completely empty, for a mound of rats occupied with a heap of offal at the far end of the cell scattered at Elrond's invasion, leaping in every direction and falling over themselves to evade him and his light. Some tumbled into the water rising up from the river, and the sound of their splashing made louder beneath the oppressive stone.

His heart sank to find the cell empty, but then the mound of refuse fetched up against the stone wall twitched. Stepping across the cell, Elrond bent down for a closer look. What he was not river trash, but a booted foot. The booted foot shifted ever so slightly while the owner of the boot moaned softly.

"Legolas?" Elrond's heart felt as though it had frozen in his chest. Forcing himself to breathe, he managed to move across the cell, if only to deny that this poor victim was... was anyone he knew.

Going down on one knee beside Thranduil's latest victim, Elrond wiped away some of the slime covering the Elf's face and saw by torchlight the tip of a delicately pointed ear, the remains of a golden braid above it. Sweeping the light downward, Elrond saw that Legolas lay with his arms wrapped tight about him, as if to ward off a blow. The tips of his fingers were shiny, dripping with what appeared to be fresh blood.

"You shouldn't have come," a weak voice rasped. "But you're not really here, so it doesn't matter." The bloodied fingers closed, and Legolas shuddered. "Don't bite this time."

Elrond continued his visual inspection only to see that Legolas' clothes and boots were in tatters. Bloody scratches could be seen beneath what remained of the cloth. Dirt was ground into injuries that seemed to be older, while others were far too fresh and still clean.

"Valinor's light, you're being eaten alive."

Tossing aside the torch, Elrond slid his hands beneath Legolas and lifted him into his arms. His prince weighed far too little and offered no protest beyond a soft moan. Nestling Legolas close against his chest, Elrond left the cell and blessed the moon-moss growing on the dungeon walls. Luminescent, it offered a faint light by which the Elf-lord could trace his steps and locate the stairway leading up to the surface.


	20. Chapter 20

CHAPTER TWENTY

"We're collecting quite a group up here. It's about time you--" Glorfindel's cheerful tones rang out, only to cease abruptly when he caught sight of the filthy, bloodied shape in Elrond's arms. "Sweet Elbereth, what did they do to him? Please tell me he still lives."

"He was without light, warmth and food. There were also rats. Beyond that, I do not yet know."

Glorfindel led the way through the tangle of corridors and back into the main hall. The main door was in view when a cold voice rang out at Elrond's back.

"Peredhil!" a commanding voice rang out. "You invade my hall, strike down my guards and for what? What could possibly claim your interest here in Mirkwood? My treasure-house is well-guarded and quite in the opposite direction."

Turning, Elrond saw Thranduil standing some distance down the broad corridor. At his side stood a slender, thin-faced Elf that Elrond assumed was the Mirkwood king's eldest son. At least twenty well-armed guards ringed the two royals.

"I come to claim what is mine," Elrond ground out.

"I came to help him." Glorfindel stepped up to stand at the Elf-lord's side, his hand on his sword hilt.

Thranduil smiled. "Lord Glorfindel, I know that you have enjoyed the hospitality of my trees and the conversation of my people over the last weeks. We are friends, and I have no quarrel with you, just as Mirkwood has no alliance with Imladris." His blue eyes grew colder. "Half-Elf, the prisoner you are attempting to claim is a treasonous little brat who keeps his promises about as well as you do. He stays here in Mirkwood."

"The prisoner I claim is my betrothed mate whom you have kept locked in a dungeon cell without food or light, where you left him to become food for rats!"

The guards immediately surrounding Elrond began murmuring as Legolas' bloodied hands and other injuries drew their attention.

Elrond shoved Legolas' limp form against Glorfindel. "Hold him."

Startled, Glorfindel managed to awkwardly cradle the unconscious Elf as Elrond drew his sword and began striding toward Thranduil with deadly purpose.

"You seek my death, Half-Elf? More likely, you will find your own. Is he worth it?"

One of the guards lunged, but Elrond quickly disarmed his attacker to send him sprawling against the wall. Another and yet another were on him next, with the Elf-lord defending himself with cold, deliberate anger. He did not kill his attackers, but none cared to rise and challenge him again. As soon as his way was clear, Elrond stalked once more toward the king of Mirkwood.

"I command you to stop him!" Thranduil bellowed as the guards behind Elrond enclosed Glorfindel.

"Get by," he growled at the latest obstacle that leaped before him. Sword locked sword before Elrond struck the guard on his helmet and sent him spinning into the nearest stone column. The elf smashed head first against the granite and slid unconscious to the floor.

"Here now, what's this?" said Glorfindel from behind Elrond. "I can't exactly defend myself with an armful of prince, can I? If one of you would care to hold Legolas while I take care of your fellows--"

Elrond spared a glance behind to see how his friend was faring as other voices drowned out Glorfindel's protests. Glorfindel was well able to defend himself, and his abilities were legend. He'd killed a balrog: Thranduil's minions posed a miniscule threat. As yet, however, Elrond heard no swordsmacking or cries of agony.

"Carry on, don't mind us," Glorfindel called out, unseen for the crush of the crowd. "We're all fine back here. Yes, see that? That's where the rats got at him. Chewed the flesh clean off, it looks like. Down to the bone, you say? Oh, is that bone sticking out there? Yes, I think it might be. On the other hand, he's really too dirty to tell for certain, isn't he? Have a care there, the mud is making him rather slippery to hold."

The guards' voices strengthened around Glorfindel, and Elrond heard snatches of cursing. The murmurs rose only to fall into low growls and hisses of discontentment and disapproval. What the Elves were disapproving of, Elrond couldn't tell and didn't wait to find out. He kept moving toward Thranduil.

The murmuring spread like wildfire among the remaining guard. Within moments, the men surrounding Thranduil appeared to be deserting their king. Hurrying past Elrond without challenging him, they all seemed bent on reachig Glorfindel and his charge.

Raising a fisted hand, Thranduil bellowed, "Come back here!"

Glancing uneasily at his father, Thranduil's son stepped in front of his father as Elrond finally reached them. Drawing his sword, the slender Elf-prince tightened his grip and took a deep breath. Raising the sword before him, he met Elrond's gaze steadily. "Leave the traitor, and return to Imladris."

Elrond struck the broadsword so hard that it rang. The prince shuddered as the force of the blow traveled up his arms and throughout his frame. Blanching, he shifted his stance but did not move away from his father.

"Your brother is no traitor," Elrond said.

Thranduil sneered over his son's shoulder. "He failed to honor the treaty, you are unbonded, and he had to be returned to Mirkwood. If he is not a traitor, then what is he?"

"He is mine."

"You did not bond with him!" Thranduil bellowed. "As our agreement is forfeit, so is his life!"

Elrond towered over the younger Elf, stood nearly on his toes. "Put down your weapon and let me pass."

"You'll kill my father."

"Elves do not kill Elves."

The prince stared up at Elrond, his puzzled eyes the same light blue as Legolas'. "But my father the king--"

"Your father abandoned Legolas—my Legolas and your brother--to death beneath these stones. As for you, you will get out of my way. Now." Wrapping his strong fingers around the prince's wrist, Elrond applied pressure to a well-known nerve and shoved him aside.

Crying out, the prince let go the sword in order to brace his fall. Elrond caught the sword as the prince went sprawling, and Thranduil scrambled backward, eager to get away from the Elf-lord descending on him with two weapons in hand.

"I sent word to you that Legolas and I were betrothed," Elrond said conversationally, pursuing Thranduil down the corridor. "Did you not receive my message."

"Sauron-spawn, the both of you!"

"You gave us no time to come to know each other, much less to bond," Elrond continued, backing Thranduil against the nearest stone column. The tip of one sword found its way to rest against Thranduil's throat. The other pressed against his belly. "Whatever else you may wish to believe, Legolas is no traitor, neither by intent nor by behavior. We would have bonded in our own good time, as was communicated to you. If anyone here is guilty, it is you with your singular lack of patience, m'lord."

Thranduil's laugh was filled with scorn. "That one is neither good nor faithful, as you will one day discover, should he actually survive his days in my dungeon. I thought to keep him from harming either of us any further. But it seems that you, in your infinite wisdom, have other plans. Fine then, Half-Elven. Take him. Bed him and bond him to you if that is to your liking." Thranduil wheezed and coughed as the swordblade pressed harder against his throat. "May you have joy of each other."

Elrond stared at the glowering king for a long moment. With delicate deliberation, he guided the sharp point of the sword down Thranduil's neck. The Elf-king's blue eyes went wide and his hands flew up to touch his throat, only to find his fingers came away stained with blood.

"So," said the king, again and again exploring the injury that was bleeding enough to stain his robes but not nearly enough to kill him. "I have Mirkwood's treaty with Imladris which you have now sworn personally before all of these witnesses to uphold by bonding with Legolas, and you have drawn my blood. I do not intend to defend myself, Half-Elf. Either kill me or let me go."

"You would like me to kill you, would you not?" Elrond's voice was dangerous and low. "Yes, kill you so that you may travel to Mandos' halls and accuse me of murdering an unarmed Elven king. You would enjoy seeing cast out, and your son with me. That would solve your problems very nicely, would it not?"

"Such a thing never occurred to me." Thranduil's smile belied his denial.

"I have something quite different in mind," Elrond said with a dangerous calm. Reaching out, Elrond spun the shorter Elf about, locked his arm tight around Thranduil's neck, and began dragging him back down the corridor. Thranduili's guard fell back to allow the Elf-lord by. "You called Legolas a traitor. I say that as a father an as Mirkwood's king, you are no less a traitor."

"Your accusation is meaningless!" Thranduil choked, clawing at the long arm holding him in a vise grip.

Relentless, Elrond dragged the Elf toward the doorway leading down into the dungeons. "My accusation is as meaningless as the letters you sent to Imladris, signed in Legolas' name by your own hand. Admit your betrayal and deceit – admit that Legolas knew nothing of your plan to unite my people with yours through sacrificing him."

"He agreed--"

Having reached the stairs, Elrond shoved the Elf-king below. Thranduil stumbled at the top before falling, head over heels, down the slippery, moss-covered steps. Landing in a slime-covered heap at the bottom, Thranduil staggered painfully to his feet.

"Legolas agreed!" Thranduil panted. "He chose to journey to you in Imladris."

"He did," Elrond admitted, descending into the dungeons at a more sedate pace. Behind him came Thranduil's eldest son, creeping cautiously along lest Elrond's fury turn next to him. Following after the Mirkwood prince came other Elves, some bearing torches to light their way.

"Legolas chose to join me after you imprisoned him in utter darkness here for some weeks," Elrond reminded Thranduil.

"He was willful and disobedient to my command," Thranduil protested. "He needed a lesson, needed discipline." Thranduil stumbled backward, taking care to stay well out of Elrond's immediate reach.

"You commanded Legolas to bind himself to someone he did not know and did not love. You did this after deceiving me with letters and a proposal you claimed were his," Elrond pointed out. "The letters you sent to me expressing Legolas' willingness to bond with me contained nothing but lies."

"He came to agree with their substance, if not their sentiment," Thranduil sputtered. "I left the sentiment up to the two of you."

"You speak of sentiment when, as a father, you obviously feel nothing but contempt for your son?" Elrond backed Thranduil further down the dungeon corridor.

"Legolas has ever been a disobedient--"

"I have experienced disobedience in my own sons, which may well be reinterpreted as their desire to defend our lands and those they love the way they know best. Legolas' talents and desires parallel theirs. Mind your head--" Elrond ordered a moment before Thranduil cracked the back of his skull on a low-lying support beam. Thranduil began raining epithets down on Elrond's head as the ceiling rained down bits of dirt and moss, and Elrond gestured shortly. "Keep going."

"What is your intent, forcing me down into this disgusting place?" Thranduil shook the filth from his long blonde hair and glowered as best he could in the torchlight.

"My intent is that you understand fully the undeserved punishment you meted out to Legolas" Elrond said reasonably. "A loving father and king commands through affection and gentle persuasion. You also know that it is the right of every Elf to choose whoever he or she will as their eternal mate. As we rule and serve others, it is our sacred duty to govern and to guide with compassion and honor -- without deceit -- else we are no better than the wraiths who follow the Dark Lord."

"You brought me down here to lecture me. Wonderful." Thranduil grunted. "I don't mind listening or even debating your points, but surely we could do it in the comfort of my great hall? Over a goblet or two of that fine ale you sent us the other week?"

"That particular setting does not suit my plans for you, just as it did not suit you where Legolas is concerned. Honor and compassion, the love of a father for his son... I suspect that you have offered little of these things to Legolas. Is it any wonder he rebelled?"

"That is not your concern or his. I commanded him as king." Thranduil fetched up against a dirty iron door. With nowhere left to go, he watched with obvious apprehension while Elrond bore down on him. "The joining of Imladris with Mirkwood is necessary if my people are to survive."

"And there we have the simple truth," Elrond said wearily, resting a heavy hand on Thranduil's shoulder. "What prevented you from sending Legolas to me with that message? We would not have turned you or your people away. Instead, you created lies and set out to force Legolas to make a loveless bond, to punish us forever. To serve what, your endless pride?"

"To protect my people! By making this agreement between Imladris and Mirkwood one that could not be undone!"

"You seek to protect your people by destroying your son?"

Thranduil opened his mouth again as if to argue the point, only to stand staring up at Elrond as if the thought had never before occurred to him. "It was -- it was for the good of Mirkwood and her people that I--"

"You cornered Legolas, captured him, and ordered him. You imprisoned him when he refused to compromise his honor. You hurt him and hoped to break him. You used him as nothing more than property, something useful in your greedy machinations to grab some of Imladris' prosperity for your own."

"I did not force Legolas! He agreed to bond with you and went to Imladris of his own free will!"

Elrond's fingers dug into Thranduil's shoulder. "What choice did you leave him other than to bond with me or to die in the darkness that even now surrounds us? And what choice do you leave me this day?"

Hard fingers guided Mirkwood's king into the filthy, cramped cell that had so recently been vacated by Legolas. An unwilling Thranduil shuffled back into the middle of the small space only to stare incredulously as Elrond swung closed the door.

"You can't mean to leave me here!"

"I mean to do precisely that." Slamming the door, Elrond turned the rusty lock. Removing the key from its ring, he pocketed it. The heavy iron door muffled the outraged bellowing of the king locked behind it.

Thranduil's son dared approach the Lord of Imladris "My lord, there is but one key to that lock."

"Is that so?" He handed the prince the ring bereft of the key in question.

"I know that you would teach my father a lesson by locking him here as he did my brother. But I would ask that you leave the key in my care, so that when you have gone I might let him free."

"No." Turning, Elrond headed back to the surface, to retrieve the Elf he had come for.

"But my lord...There is no other way out for him."

"There was no way out for Legolas, either." Elrond spared but a glance at the pale Elf following on his heels. "Your father has one thing Legolas did not: servants willing to reach out to him from the other side."

"The... other side?"

"The river side of the cell."

"But there is darkness and rats! And it smells down there. We cannot even reach him to feed him, my father cannot bear this." The younger Elf subsided at the look Elrond gave him. "It will take us weeks to dam up that portion of the river, to drain it and to reach him, my lord."

"Then I suggest you get started."

Reaching the light of the hall, Elrond strode over to the corner where a group of Elven guards were huddled tight. Noting his approach, the Elves parted to reveal Glorfindel squatting on the floor with Legolas braced across his lap.

"Is everything in order?" asked Glorfindel as Elrond gathered Legolas to him.

"It is." Settling the far-too-slight weight in his arms, Elrond cradled the unconscious Elf close and headed for the front doors.

Guards leaped to open it for the little group, to usher them outside. Sweeping through the doorway, Elrond whistled to bring both his and Glorfindel's geldings trotting across the cobbles. Elven guards who had been trying to capture the rearing, biting war-horses scattered.

"Please take Legolas once more while I mount," Elrond ordered.

Keeping an eye on the Elven warriors creeping ever closer, Glorfindel did as he was asked.

"Legolas..." One of the Elves murmured, reaching out to touch the dirt-caked mane that had once been shining gold. The hand traveled on to trace bloodied clothing and rough, torn skin. The Elven warrior's eyes filled with tears. "Our king did this?"

"Yes." Mounting his horse, Elrond pulled the cloak from his shoulders and spread it across his lap. "Glorfindel, if you please?"

Legolas was handed up carefully, and Elrond bundled him into the cloak. Cradling the Elf tightly against his chest, Elrond walked his horse through the still, silent crowd of Elves.


	21. Chapter 21

CHAPTER 21

"I know that you would put as much distance as possible between us and Thranduil, but the horses need to rest," Glorfindel reminded him as the mist lifted off and the rising sun slanted rainbowed beams of light through the trees.

"We are being followed."

"I know," Glorfindel said gently. "They will catch up to us eventually whether we rest or not. But likely they are just as weary as we are and will have to rest sometime as well. We can take the time."

Giving a sigh, Elrond led the way off of the main road. Gazing down at the precious bundle he had carried on his lap until his legs had gone numb, he pressed his lips to the dirty hair and whispered yet another prayer to Elbereth. The horses were secured while Elrond made a bed for Legolas next to the fire.

"I'm off in search of breakfast," Glorfindel announced, "and to ascertain how far behind are our pursuers."

"Take all care," Elrond murmured, holding Legolas in his lap.

"Here," said Glorfindel, handing down his own cloak. "Cover him with this as well."

"All my thanks." Tucking the thick material around his prince, Elrond spared not the slightest glance for Glorfindel.

Legolas stirred fitfully as the sun warmed his face for the first time in weeks. His eyes fluttered open, unfocused for a moment before blinking and clearing.

"Are you awake?" Elrond murmured. Taking a waterskin, he uncorked it. "If you are, can you drink some of this for me?"

Legolas's fingers brushed weakly against Elrond's wrist, trying to reach for the offered water.

"Not too much," Elrond warned, "or it will all come up again."

He managed a few sips before subsiding back against Elrond's arm.

"Are you a rat?" Legolas rasped.

"The rats are gone, and I am real," Elrond said gently, smoothing matted hair away from the high forehead. "We are away from Mirkwood and on our way home, Legolas. You are safe now."

"Safe." Legolas closed his eyes as if the effort to hold them open were too much. "There is no safe place. We are being followed."

"You need not worry about that. Rest now."

"Must worry! The trees say they follow!"

"Yes. I know," Elrond acknowledged. "I'm more worried about you. Can you drink a bit more for me?"

Legolas pushed away the skin. "We cannot linger." He struggled feebly, as if trying to roll over in preparation to gaining his feet.

Spreading a hand across Legolas's chest, Elrond held him down. "Be at peace, my prince. Glorfindel is with us and will sound the alarm should we have to leave quickly. Everything is well."

"Everything is not well." Legolas panted, the small struggle having entirely drained him. Shivering, he burrowed more deeply against Elrond. "You should not have come."

"You belong with me, Legolas. I could not stay away."

Legolas' raw, trembling fingertips touched Elrond's face as if to reassure himself the Elf-lord was solid. "When Thranduil imprisoned me the first time, I wanted nothing less than to go to Imladris. Now, I want nothing more. Please, Elrond. Take me home."

"I will. And no one will take you from me again."

He managed to coax a few more sips of water into Legolas before he drifted back into what was more unconsciousness than sleep. Glorfindel emerged from the trees, carrying the nuts and edible berries he had managed to find.

"Some of these will be for Legolas later today. How is he?"

"He was awake for a few minutes, but seems on the edge of delirium," Elrond revealed. "He has had a bit to drink, but it is far from the nourishment he needs." Tears filled Elrond's eyes as he continued, unconsciously rocking Legolas to him. "We are two weeks out from Imladris, Mirkwood's army is nearly upon us, and my prince is not well. He is dehydrated and starved, beaten by the very stone he was forced to live under."

Elrond ran his fingers down Legolas's arm, captured a hand whose fingers were curled tightly inward. "His poor fingers were food for those rats. I do not know the depth of their injuries, nor those covering the rest of his body. I cannot take the time to examine him right now. By the time I can, it may we be that he is dead. Glorfindel, have I brought him out of Thranduil's madness only to have him die in my arms? Would that we had bonded before he left Imladris, that I could lend him my own strength."

Glorfindel knelt beside him. "It's not too late to bond with him."

"Look at him, Glorfindel. It's far too late."

"The same threats pursue him as before. If you were to join with him, those threats would fade away. It is not too late for it to be of benefit to both of you."

Elrond stared at him. "What are you suggesting?"

"Only that it would solve many problems were the two of you to bond now."

"You would have me take him, wounded and unconscious and delirious? What, am I to have my way with him out here in the bushes? That, you feel, would solve all of our problems?

"Yes" Glorfindel replied firmly, unphased by Elrond's outrage. "The contract would be fulfilled. Problem solved."

"No!" Elrond growled, pulling Legolas hard against him as if Glorfindel himself presented a very real threat. Legolas gave a squeak of protest, one hand lifting inches from his chest to bat away an imaginary rat.

"If you bonded with him, Thranduil's army would stop following us," Glorfindel pointed out, his blue eyes more serious than Elrond could ever remember seeing them. "His father would stop trying to take him from you, and the precious alliance between Imladris and Mirkwood would be forged. You would be allowed to tend your prince at your leisure and thereby almost certainly safe his life."

"By destroying his eternity? No."

"You are a stubborn Elf."

"You already knew that."

Glorfindel sighed. "If that is your decision, then may I suggest that the horses have rested enough, and we should be off." Turning away, Glorfindel kicked dirt onto Elrond's small fire. Making certain it was out, he turned his attention to readying the horses for travel once more.

Elrond eyed his friend with all wariness, feeling a deep shock that the older Elf-lord would suggest such a bonding. Elrond pursued the debate once they were all ahorse and again on the road.

"The bonding you suggest would bring only misery when Legolas has recovered," Elrond ventured.

"You know best, of course." Glorfindel's eyes were fixed on the road ahead. "But at least he would have time to heal and recover, rather than being jostled to death on a horse."

Elrond fell silent after that, concentrating on the fading Elf in his arms rather than pursuing pointless conversation with his oldest friend.

* * *

"We should clear Mirkwood's borders by nightfall," Glorfindel observed as Elrond tried to rouse Legolas at mid-day, in a hopeless attempt to feed him some of the fare Glorfindel had managed to find. "If we ride on another hour after dark, we'll be well out of the army's territory. Perhaps they will turn back."

"Perhaps."

"Will Legolas last that long?"

Elrond handed back the mashed berries Glorfindel had prepared. Not one bit had found its way into Legolas. "He could die at any time, Glorfindel. And I am powerless to prevent it."

The warrior Elf watched silently as, again and again, Elrond combed his fingers through Legolas's filthy mane.

"Don't you leave me, too," Elrond murmured, seeming to forget he was not alone. "The world would be altogether too lonely a place without you in it."

The day droned on with the small group traveling as quickly as Elrond dared while accommodating both horses and Legolas. Glorfindel offered to carry Legolas some small way, to afford some relief to Elrond's tiring arms and numb legs, but the Elf-lord refused.

"You know, Mithrandir and I discovered a lovely little place while traveling," said Glorfindel. "A small, grassy clearing with a hot-spring feeding into a lake. Perfect place for us to camp tonight, and I'm sure I can find it again. I'll get us a rabbit and make a thin soup for Legolas. What do you say to that?"

"It's a grand plan," Elrond offered, all misery. "You know, I foresaw the cell I found him in? I thought it lay within Dol Goldur, that surely the wraiths would take him. But I was wrong, so terribly wrong. I saw it all -- the black cell, the rats running, and Legolas left for dead."

"That cell is behind you," said Glorfindel, laying a hand on Elrond's shoulder as he rode beside him. "Let it go, for your prince is with you now. Neither one of us shall surrender him to pain and death, either in this life or the next."

"Perhaps the kinder thing would be to let him go."

"Perhaps. But that is not a decision for either one of us to make. We must do what we can to save Legolas, to restore him to you so that you can both love each other long and well."

"He does not love me, Glorfindel."

"I think that he does. Do you remember what he answered, weeks ago now, when you asked him why he had risked his life to save your horses?"

"He said, 'I like horses.'" The memory brought a ghost of a smile.

"Exactly. I've spent some time with Legolas -- admittedly not as much as you have, but enough to see that he is not a complicated creature. He risked his life to save your horses because he likes horses. He stayed with you those weeks in Imladris because he likes you."

Much as Assassin would have done, Elrond rolled a disbelieving eye toward Glorfindel.

"Will you at least consider the possibility?" the older Elf-lord pressed.

"Not if it leads to where I think it may lead, which is straight back to the bushes and bonding for us. Give it up, Glorfindel."

"I cannot. Thranduil's own are but scant hours behind us, and I do not believe they will leave off once we cross Mirkwood's border, any more than Thranduil allowed Legolas's friends to avoid taking him on the wrong side of Mirkwood's border. We are powerful, Elrond, but not that powerful, and we are only two. We are also crippled in no small way by your obstinence and inability to define the love between you and Legolas in any way that embraces the physical. At least consider what I am saying, while we ride and tonight while Legolas takes his rest under the stars of Elbereth. Those stars may well be the last light he sees this side of Mandos' Halls."

* * *

The clearing was every bit as lovely in the moonlight as Glorfindel remembered it, regardless its beauty was entirely lost on Elrond. Heading off once more with bow and arrow, the Elf-lord made short work of flushing out and shooting a rabbit. The broth for Legolas was prepared in no time, but Glorfindel found himself eating the rabbit alone, for Elrond was interested in nothing but coaxing some broth into Legolas. The semi-conscious Elf cooperated as best he could, clinging with raw fingers to Elrond only to hiss and draw back as the mangled mess the rats had created sent shards of pain shooting through his hands.

Over and over again, Legolas tried to drink, only to be distracted by his pain until total unconsciousness claimed him. Setting aside the skin full of broth, Elrond looked across the fire at Glorfindel in total helplessness.

"I am losing him."

Giving a deep sigh, Glorfindel gained his feet and gathered his weapons. "I'm going to see how much time we have until Thranduil's warriors reach us. In case you have need of it, the hot-spring lies just over there. Legolas might rest better if he were cleaner and free of the dungeon stink."

Glorfindel paced away without looking back.

* * *

The moon shown down, bathing all it touched in a soothing blue light. Lying in Elrond's arms, his long lashes shadowing his cheeks, Legolas looked as if carved from marble. His breathing grew more shallow as the moments passed.

"I cannot simply watch you die," Elrond whispered, stroking the smooth skin with the back of his hand. "And yet... what am I to do with you? Do I watch you die, or perhaps cause it myself?"

At the very least, Glorfindel's observations on the comfort of warmth and cleansing had merit, and with a sigh Elrond gathered Legolas' limp form more securely in his arms and rose. Carrying the Elf to the edge of the spring was easy enough. Dipping a hand into the water, Elrond found it neither warm enough to scald his prince or cold enough to send him further into shock. Peeling away the clothing that was little more than rags, Elrond wept anew to see the biting and bruising on the porcelain skin. Gathering Legolas close once more, Elrond blinked away the tears to see clearly where he was entering the pool.

Handful after handful of warm water caressed and cleansed Legolas, who remained still and oblivious to Elrond's ministrations. Whatever miracle of awakening and healing Elrond prayed for, it did not happen while they were in the pool.

"So you've changed your mind?" Glorfindel's voice intruded halfway through Legolas's bath.

A stream of Elven curses met the question, with Elrond snatching Legolas close, away from prying eyes before glowering up at the Elf-lord. "What are you doing back here? What news do you bring?"

"Legolas is finely made, isn't he? Beautiful. Do you realize that you left your sword back by the fire?" Glorfindel let some of the old mocking cheerfulness creep into his tones. "What if I had been the enemy?"

"Glorfindel, at this point in time, I daresay you might be. And I could cheerfully kill any intruder with my bare hands. Go away."

"Thranduil's army is nearly upon us. Just thought you'd like to know, and there's nowhere for us to go. My bow is ready, my arrows are at Legolas' service. You might wish to retrieve your sword and make a good showing of it before we're demolished."

"Do you mind?"

"It was only a suggestion." He nodded complacently. "Or I can defend our camp by myself. Not unreasonable odds, that – one Mirkwood army against one elven warrior. I almost feel sorry for them. But do carry on, Elrond. I'll go defend."

The Elf-lord disappeared behind the thick vegetation surrounding the pool. Holding his breath, Elrond also held Legolas and listened for the sound of Glorfindel's retreating steps. Reassured by what he heard - as well as by what he did not hear in the next few minutes - Elrond finished bathing Legolas, only to lean back in the water and contemplate the situation.

"If you could hear me, what would you choose, my love: life with me or freedom in death? I wish that I knew." Elrond traced the fine eyebrows, the narrow nose with a finger. Bending, he let his lips touch as well. "You must know that I love you, Legolas. You are young, life is a kingdom waiting for you. With me, would you not also have freedom as well? And would I not be happy, merely to see you each day?"

His fingers cupped a fine-pointed ear, dwarfed by the size of Elrond's hand. His fingers trailed down Legolas's throat, smoothed across the chest that rose and fell ever more shallow.

"My prince, my Legolas," he whispered. Pulling the lithe body ever closer, Elrond whispered into the ear he had only just caressed. "One day, I may see forgiveness in your eyes for what I am about to do to you, but I doubt it. I may be damned for all time and eternity, but I cannot bear to lose you."

With tears falling like silver jewels into the warm pool, Elrond set about loving Legolas. With reverent hands and lips he worshipped, drawing a despairing response from his own body and one from Legolas as well. Bending over his lover, Elrond took Legolas as gently as he could. A new bond sparked and exploded between them, only to subside into a steady pulsing inside his own mind. Warm water cradled Elrond as he cradled his bonded mate.

"You are forever free now of your father and his threats," he whispered into a delicate ear, pressing his cheek against his prince. "You will no doubt hate me as I hate myself, but you are free."

* * *

"We mean you no harm," said the she-elf leading the army of Mirkwood as no few of its members surrounded Glorfindel. "Those you see here have known Legolas since he was a babe, and we love him. We know you as a friend as well, and Elrond is not our enemy no matter what tales Thranduil may spin."

Still Glorfindel refused to stand down: twin blades were held at the ready. It was forbidden that Elf-kind should slay Elf-kind, but if that was what it took to defend the Lord of Imladris and his prince, Glorfindel would do so. "What are your intentions this night?"

"Thranduil ordered us to bring back Legolas," another Elf spoke, lowering his bow and stepping forward to speak more closely with Glorfindel. "But each of us has seen or heard of the harm our king has caused him. Legolas, Thranduil said, has committed crimes against Mirkwood. We say that the crimes visited upon a younger son by his father are far greater. Thranduil may say whatever he pleases, but we…many of us saw the truth with our own eyes. Those who have not believe the horrified witness of others who have."

Another Elf spoke. "I am one who saw Legolas." He held out a small leather pouch. "Lord Elrond will need these."

"What are they?"

"Herbs, salves and oils to help heal our prince. I saw his wounds and fear their extent. Please allow us to help. Elrond will know what is to be done with what we give him."

Glorfindel took the pouch, trying not to snatch in his eagerness.

"We brought also these clothes, to replace those damaged these weeks." Another satchel was passed to Glorfindel. "Please, won't you stop running? Stop risking Legolas' life for fear of losing him?"

Glorfindel eyed the Elf before him. "You're a healer, aren't you?"

The Elf nodded earnestly. "I tended our prince's birth, I would not harm him for all of Arda."

"The army surrounding you means you no harm," the she-elf interrupted, "for you travel with the Lord of Imladris who did what none of us dared: he brought Legolas out into the light and claimed him within our sight. This patrol would petition your lord to admit two- thirds of Thranduil's army to his lands – not to fight Imladris but to settle there and serve Prince Legolas. To live in peace and never return to Thranduil."

"Our mates and our children travel behind us," said the healer. "They creep through the wood and wait for permission to join you on your journey back to Imladris. We could not leave them in Mirkwood, so great is our fear of Thranduil's wrath. But we love our prince and would help you protect him. That is our intent, nothing more and nothing less, to keep safe those we love."

Staring at each of the Elves in their turn, Glorfindel could sense no duplicity. All were woodland Elves, wilder and less peaceful than their Sindarin counterparts, more dangerous in battle and yet more loyal and capable, Glorfindel suspected, than any of Thranduil's inner minion. And their loyalty, it seemed, lay with Legolas.

What am I to do with this? he wondered. "I thank you for your honesty, and your loyalty to Legolas. Wait here for a moment, please."

* * *

A stunned Glorfindel made his way back to the clearing. Elrond was there, dry and clothed once more and tending the fire. Legolas lay close by, his face even paler without the coating of grime, and his hair shining damply in the firelight. His chest rose and fell more deeply and evenly than before, or so it seemed to Glorfindel.

Elrond turned to greet Glorfindel the moment he sensed his approach. Elrond's sword, Glorfindel noted, was close at hand, though still in its sheath. The warrior's keen gaze swept over the Lord of Imladris.

"You bonded with him." It was not a question.

"Legolas is mine now." Elrond's eyes held a sadness that Glorfindel could not hope to fathom. "He regained consciousness a few moments ago, drank all of your broth, and now he sleeps."

"That is an improvement, certainly." Gorfindel could not keep his smile away, though Elrond only glowered at him in answer.

"What news do you bring of Mirkwood's army?"

"They send gifts." Glorfindel held out the pouches he had been given. "The smaller contains healing things, the larger contains clothes."

"Gifts? Why would they bring gifts?" Elrond looked at his friend in confusion. "Healing supplies?" he demanded, reaching up to pull them from Glorfindel's fingers. "Let me see."

"It would seem that I misjudged Mirkwood's army: they have come not to fight and return Legolas to his father, but to join us."

"Join us?" Elrond echoed absentmindedly, tearing into the smaller pouch.

"They seek permission to journey with us to Imladris. To stay."

"Of course they can stay," Elrond murmured absently, sorting through the things he'd been given. "Glorfindel, this is wonderful. Legolas's wounds are clean now, and I can wrap them with what's provided here. This is exactly what's needed, he can begin to heal." The gray eyes were full of joy now, in equal measure to the sorrow Glorfindel had glimpsed only a moment before.

"Elrond..." He followed the Elf-lord around the fire, to Legolas's side. "Were you listening to me? Do you not understand?"

"Of course I understand. Look at his poor hands, at his fingers where the rats gnawed. The wounds are down to the bone here, and I had feared gross infection. Yet his other hand - the hand bearing the seal of my house? - that hand is uninjured. How he managed to keep it safe from them I shall never know. He has other injuries--"

"Elrond--"

"--How could he not have other injuries? I burned his boots, they were ruined. Did they give you new boots for him? The rats chewed those as well, and his toes are in worse shape than his hands. They will take some time to heal, but we have time now."

"Elrond, you must know that I failed you," Glorfindel protested. "You need not have bonded with Legolas because Mirkwood's army--"

"A portion of Mirkwood's army is asking to return to Imladris with us, yes?"

"Yes."

"That means a portion of Thranduil's guard is still loyal to Thranduil, who would never relinquish control of Legolas, were he and I not bonded. They would come against Legolas at the earliest opportunity, which is removed now. Do you not see the truth of your own advice, my friend? No matter. You must help me with these bandages. No wonder Legolas seeks not to be conscious, the agony of these raw nerve endings must be intolerable to him. But he has something warm in his stomach now, and he is sleeping rather than fading, and I can help him now. This is the miracle I needed, Glorfindel - this, and these oils you have brought to me."

"Elrond, could you give me your full attention for just a moment?" Glorfindel snapped. "What am I to tell those from Mirkwood? They wait for your answer."

"Tell them that they are welcome, of course. Imladris turns no one away, most certainly not Elves seeking sanctuary. And we will need them on this journey. They care for Legolas, there are other dangers lurking about, and we will need their help to see him safely home." Elrond continued to lay out the healing supplies within easy, orderly reach of his patient, the spared Glorfindel a glance over his shoulder. "Well? Go tell them and get back here. We've a lot of bandaging to do."

Glorfindel managed a nod before turning to head back to the waiting elves with his head still spinning from the startling turn of events. But in his heart burgeoned a hope that had been impossible only a few minutes earlier. Legolas had a chance now, Elrond had said, and that was all that really mattered.


	22. Chapter 22

CHAPTER 22

Consciousness gnawed at Legolas, or perhaps it was the rats. He had become used to it being rats.

Pain beckoned him up from blissful sleep, his fingers and hands and head throbbing. He pulled back, unwilling to claw his way up and open his eyes to empty darkness and agony. Elrond would not be there to love him, or Glorfindel to tease him, or the twins to spar with him.

Imladris was far, far away from his dank cell and nothing was here with him but darkness, dampness and emptiness. Hunger had abandoned as futile its gnawing complaints long ago. And so all that was left to him was darkness and pain. Nothing remained of his life or his future but the anticipation of death. Legolas was ready to embrace death - if death would deign to knife through the pain and take him, long-willing, over to the Halls of Mandos. It would be soon now. Surely it had to be soon. Hopefully Mandos had no rats.

Death, it appeared, smelled of tired horses and the clinging mist that rolled over Mirkwood as the sun sank beyond the damp earth. The river outside his cell now sounded like Elven feet whispering over the ground, like low voices murmuring in the gathering gloom, and the sounds of a camp being set up around him. Was he drawing closer to the Halls of Waiting so that he might hear those already safely within?

Death next felt like a horse shifting beneath him as he was carefully handed down into waiting arms, and his feet were jolted against the ground. Legolas cried out against the raw agony beating through his hands and feet. No, this wasn't death. It had to be Mirkwood's dungeon still, for surely he would leave the rats and pain behind once his spirit had fled his body? Aching with disappointment that he was still alive, Legolas curled in on himself, drawing back into the dark place where he'd been waiting for so long.

"His wounds need tended again." Glorfindel's voice vibrated against him, sounding close to his ear but surely half a world away.

"I'll need hot water and fresh bandages as before," Elrond responded.

"The journey is too hard on him. We should have stopped before this. At the very least, I should have sent him to sleep more deeply before moving him again. Here, give him back to me."

Startled, part of Legolas' numb mind tried to make sense of this new assault. Glorfindel could not be there, any more than could Lord Elrond, and so Legolas fought against the hands unwrapping his bandages, thrashed across the lap of his newest captor. What punishment had his father decide upon now? Did the rats need assistance? Had he injured too many of them, or was he taking too long to die?

Legolas's shoulders were encircled, he was hugged against a hard body. His wrists were captured next, preventing further injury to his naked, hands. Trapped within his mind and certain he was still buried in Thranduil's dungeons, Legolas was aware only that his frantic strength was dissolving. The rats were winning, the rats always won. Much to his disgust, he was powerless to do anything but whimper softly before subsiding against that hard chest. The heartbeat beneath his ear was no less fast or frantic than his own.

"Peace, Legolas," came Elrond's voice again, inside of his mind as well as over his ear. "Be at peace, my own. Let me take care of you, for you are free and you are safe."

Freedom? Safety? The King of Mirkwood and his dungeon smothered all peace, held only darkness and death for his trouble. You make promises you cannot possibly keep, he snarled inwardly-would have snarled out loud but for the pain and exhaustion that pressed him down into the darkness once more.

"The rats will not find you here," the rat using Elrond's voice insisted.

Legolas turned away from that voice, unable to believe it came from anywhere but his own dying imagination, seductive though it might be. He could not want anything more desperately than to be held in Elrond's arms once more, but deliverance was not possible twice from Thranduil's dungeons, and Elrond was safe in Imladris where he belonged.

Fingers gently enfolded Legolas', spread them and stroked across his scarred palm. That roused him, drove him to his greatest efforts. They could eat the rest of him, but they could not have that. Gasping at the sheer agony of effort it took, he closed his fingers over the Seal of Elrond, trying desperately to protect his last treasure from this latest intruder.

"No…" he whispered, eyelids fluttering. Cradling his hand to his chest, Legolas folded in upon himself.

Legolas was left alone for a while, he could not know how long. His hands still hurt, and he drifted in and out of semi-consciousness. Eventually, someone tilted his head, and a wineskin was pressed against his lips. Someone rubbed a finger against his bottom lip, coaxing.

"Drink, my own, and sleep," someone whispered, sounding very much like Elrond.

Liquid flowed between his teeth: Legolas choked, then had no choice but to swallow. Elrond's voice still surrounded him, but the words were growing muffled, indistinct.

Whatever dream this is, Legolas thought, it has not bitten me. Let it carry me over to Mandos. What a gift to hear Elrond's voice again, even if it is a rat.

* * *

It was full night when Legolas awoke again to find that he was lying on his side. Gradually, his vision cleared; blinking, he focused on a small fire burning safely in a ring of stones only a few feet away. Fire. That was a startling discovery his muzzy mind turned over for long moments. Light. Warmth. He could smell the woodsmoke. That was impossible in the river-damp dungeon, and he stared at it, trying to see the reality behind this teasing hallucination.

Yes, it seemed to be a fire, and wasn't the warmth wonderful. Finally tearing his eyes away from the beauty of the flames, Legolas let his gaze roam without direction. Moonlight through tree branches was his next discovery; the moon hung huge and heavy in the trees beyond the fire, lending possibility to the thought he was no longer deep beneath Thranduil's keep. Fire and moon and sweet forest scent in his nostrils instead of river muck and stagnant water…life instead of death. It was so beautiful, all of it. And it seemed so very real….

Could it possibly be real? Where were the stones? Feeling more lucid than he had in days, Legolas reached out gingerly with his senses, half afraid the forest he found himself in would melt into slick stone and sewage.

A leg shifted beneath him: his head was resting in someone's lap. Fingers were sifting through his hair, gently caressing the shell of his ear. Breathing deeply, Legolas was startled to have Elrond's scent fill his senses. Safety and security were in that scent, all the world to Legolas. But how could Elrond be there with him? For that matter, where was 'here'? Breathing deeply once more, Legolas tried to force his eyes focus beyond the fire.

Elves moved there, Elves carrying knives and bows and arrows, familiar figures from Thranduil's army. Fear spiked within Legolas and he half-raised his head, horrified as his latest hallucination of comfort and rescue dissolved into a new nightmare. He and Elrond were surrounded by Thranduil's warriors, and they would capture not only him again, but the Elf-lord as well. Elrond would be trapped beneath the stones and at the mercy of the rats. He would be taken from Legolas, Thranduil would kill him too, and nothing Legolas did would make any difference. That was far worse than dying alone in the dark by himself.

But wait… There was Glorfindel, seated and smiling in conversation next to the fire with an Elf who bore more than a passing resemblance to Daeron, a friend of Legolas's childhood. Other elves wandered closer to the fire, their faces becoming visible for only a moment before they faded back into the darkness, going about their business of the night.

Hallucination? His friends had been used against him in the past, yes, but everyone looked so at peace. The confusion was almost painful, and still he feared for Elrond.

Elrond's hands stilled in Legolas's hair. "You are awake?"

"Yes" he managed, though it was merely a hoarse whisper.

"That is well."

Legolas was lifted up by strong, gentle hands, was urged to lean against the broad chest behind him. Elrond's arms encircled him, and a mug of broth of broth appeared before him.

"Will you taste this for me?"

He tried, but his bandaged hands fumbled with the earthenware. Pain lanced through his fingers, making him hiss despite his determination to be strong, and embarrassment of his clumsiness made him abandon the effort, but his stomach rumbled at the thought of something hot inside it. Elrond's murmured reassurances cradled him. Familiar large hands cradled the mug as well, making certain it did not spill. Elrond's warmth encircled him and seemed to caress his mind, encouraging gently. Sliding his beneath the Elf-lord's, Legolas lifted the mug to his lips.

"Not too fast," Elrond admonished, "else it all may come right back up again."

Legolas hadn't the strength to manage more than a few sips, anyway. Leaning back and closing his eyes, he felt Elrond move beneath him as he set the mug aside. Blankets were gathered, draped around him. A pair of strong arms nestled them in place, and then those arms were around Legolas once more. Finally, his weary mind accepted the possibility of the impossible.

"You came for me," Legolas whispered, turning his nose against Elrond's neck.

"I said that I would."

"I told you not to."

One day, Legolas, you will learn that I never do what I'm told, The Elf-Lord's voice was in his head again. Not when doing otherwise would save your life, even if it means you will leave me.

Leave you? What does that mean? Legolas wanted to voice the question aloud, but could not get the words out. It did not help that Elrond was stroking his hair again and distracting him terribly.

Legolas had other questions and tried to remember them, but failed. The pain was receding and sleep was once again tugging at the corners of his mind. He was floating in a peaceful place he was beginning to half-suspect was herb induced, compliments of the Elf-lord holding him. His stomach was warm and well pleased at being given something more than icy river water. Such comfort was a memory almost forgotten until now.

"It was good," he murmured.

"What was good?" Elrond asked.

"The broth."

"I will tell Glorfindel you liked it."

Elrond braced his chin against the top of Legolas' head. A moment later, something wet and cold fell on Legolas' cheek. Legolas wiped it away with his wrist as he could not use his fingers. Another fell, too slowly and erratically to be rain. Tears? Why is Elrond crying? Laying his hand atop Elrond's, Legolas could not hold on to the thought, and so he set it aside for later. It was far easier to bask in the feeling of being warm for the first time in a long time, of having something good in his stomach and someone he loved holding onto

him. Until the thoughts returned and he could manage them, Legolas thought he would stay where he was.

The younger Elf's breathing slowed and deepened until Elrond thought him asleep. And then, so softly that the Elf-lord almost did not hear it, Legolas offered, "Thank you for coming for me. I must remember to be unhappy with you later for doing so."

"I've no doubt that you will," Elrond whispered, wiping away more tears. "But we've time for that now."

Glorfindel approached a moment later, kneeling beside the Elf-lord and his charge to retrieve the mostly empty mug and tip what was left of the broth onto the ground.

"Is he worse?" the older Elf asked in dread.

"On the contrary, he has begun healing." Elrond summoned a watery smile. "He liked your broth." Hugging Legolas more tightly to him Elrond kissed the top of the Elf's head before blinking away tears and staring off into the fire.

"I see." If he has begun to heal, then why are you weeping? Glorfindel wondered, Reluctant to force an intrusive discussion with the Elf-lord, Glorfindel went to rinse the mug in the stream and reflected that Elrond was easily the most confusing Elf he knew.

***

The next few days fell into an easy pattern, with Glorfindel constantly watching a near silent and always somber Elrond, who never let go of Legolas except when he was forced to. The Elf-lord's arms and legs went numb from riding with an armful of Elf stretched across his lap and supported by muscles that, while well-equipped to do the job, were ill-prepared to do it for hours on end.

"Let me carry him," Glorfindel begged every few hours. Elrond had refused at first, until his muscles had warned him that to insist on continuing their abuse meant that he'd find himself dropping his charge into the bushes at the most inconvenient opportunity.

And so Elrond was forced to hand over the deeply drugged, sleeping elf as they rode together. The elf lord hovered over him, watching anxiously as he rode cradled against Glorfindel, though there was no possibility of the young elf being aware of the change in his caregiver. It was great trust indeed that Glorfindel was even allowed to touch him. Having grown more than a little fond of Legolas, Glorfindel decided that getting to take care of the Elf of the crunchy one's heart had to be a special blessing from the Valar.

Sliding off of his horse, Elrond paced ahead of the animal and beside Glorfindel -- the better to keep an eye on Legolas and more quickly force the circulation back into his numb arms and legs. It had been more than a little amusing to watch Elrond's inexperienced war-horse dance and blow when first the Elf-lord had taken to flapping his arms and stomping about in an effort to make the blood flow more rapidly so that he might reclaim his elf. What was frightening soon become commonplace in its frequency, so that the beast now paid Elrond no mind when he repeated his strange stork-like mating dance. All too quickly and several times a day, Glorfindel was forced to return Legolas to his rightful keeper.


	23. Chapter 23

CHAPTER 23

Two days later, the lazy walking motion of the horse beneath Elrond had all but lulled him to sleep. Spring had given them their first warm day on the road, with the sun dappling through the trees and the dust motes dancing in the still air. Two-thirds of Mirkwood's army wove their way through the woods behind them, complete with women and children and wagons laden with goods.

More than once on this maddeningly slow journey, Elrond and Glorfindel had discussed the vulnerability of the large group. They were nowhere near the borders of Imladris yet, and every night spent beneath the stars left them open to attack from orcs and wargs.

"I refuse to quicken our pace," Elrond told his friend. "Legolas' condition will not allow it."

"And I am uneasy at the thought of continuing to travel as we are - creeping along like snails through dangerous lands," rejoined Glorfindel, only to have Elrond's burning glare turn his way. "Still, I understand and respect your concerns. We must remain as we are," he added soothingly, but still he had grave concerns.

What good would it do to win back his life now, only to lose it tonight to a creature from the shadows? Elrond ventured, gazing down at the Elf cradled peacefully in his arms. Even as he watched, Legolas drifted in and out of wakefulness. Turning his face to the sunlight and lifting his head, Legolas stretched a bandaged hand up toward the sky.

"That's the sun," Legolas murmured.

"The sun?" Elrond echoed, bewildered. "Yes, that's sunlight. It is day now."

The bandaged hand waved again, wobbling as it reached through the dappled light, weaving patterns back and forth through the streamers of light.

"I never thought to see the sun again," he sighed. His hand became more unsteady, evidently too heavy to hold up any longer. "I like the sun." Legolas turned his attention to Elrond. For all his seeming lucidity, the younger Elf's eyes were unfocused, confused. "Are you a rat?"

"No, Legolas," he confirmed for the eighteenth time that day alone. "I am Elrond."

"Are you real?"

"I am very real."

"And I, Glorfindel, am very real as well," the Elf-lord echoed, riding alongside.

Sighing, Legolas snuggled against his protector. "Sun and Elrond and Glorfindel. You're a good dream."

Capturing the hand that had flopped down to bounce against his thigh, Elrond tucked it safely into the blankets wrapped around his Elf.

"He's not all that lucid, is he?" Glorfindel asked.

"No."

"Is that your doing?"

"Mostly. I cannot end the pain for him, but I can keep it at bay." A large hand smoothed down the shining blonde hair. "Poor little Elf."

"Better not let Legolas hear you call him that," Glorfindel warned with a grin. "He is not little."

"He is now. Not much weight on him at all. It's one of the things I'm left to worry about."

Glorfindel frowned. "Perhaps it is time to add some rabbit meat to that broth."

"Perhaps it is." Elrond smiled at his friend. "You must know how grateful I am for the food you're providing us each day. If I had the time-"

"Your duty is to hold onto that one, to nurse and make him well," Glorfindel interrupted sharply. "He needs to heal quickly," he added in response to Elrond's startled expression. "There are colts to be started this season, and we need the extra hands."

"I'll help with the horses," Legolas murmured, his nose buried against Elrond's chest. "Will we see Mandos soon?"

"Mandos?" Glorfindel exchanged a look with Elrond.

"The Halls of Waiting are warm and safe. No rats," said Legolas. "And dry. The Halls are dry, aren't they?"

Pulling Legolas more tightly against him, Elrond stared at Glorfindel. "I think we should stop for the day, let him eat and rest."

"What?" Glorfindel frowned. "Why? The sun's not yet at its zenith. We will lose half a day's travel, which is scant enough distance as it is at this pace."

"Legolas is seeking Mandos! He wants to die!"

"He doesn't want to die," Glorfindel scoffed. "What he wants is for the pain to end. He's dreaming that he's still alone in that cell, surrounded by rats. He's stuck there because you keep forcing him into that herbal-induced half-sleep. What are you afraid of, Elrond?"

"I am afraid the journey will be too much for him. Too painful!"

"Liar." Glorfindel leaned closer. "You're afraid he'll wake up and realize he's bonded to you. You're afraid-"

"Enough!" Elrond growled, aware of listening ears all around. "Now is not the time to discuss this."

Glorfindel made a visible effort to rein in his temper. "You're the one who's bonded to him," he managed through gritted teeth. "And you're the only one Legolas can hear inside that wounded head of his. You tell him where he is, oh wise Elf-lord. You tell him that Mandos can't have him. Tell him that you love him and want him to stay here. With you. You're so rattled you are not thinking properly."

Elrond glowered. "Don't you think I have told him that? Repeatedly?"

"Not where I've had the hearing of it, you haven't, and I've been riding beside you for days. Go on-tell him. Legolas needs to hear it in those exact words."

The Elf Lord's protests faltered, and he hesitantly turned his attention back to the elf in his arms. He spared an apprehensive glance back toward Glorfindel, who nodded firmly toward Legolas. "Go on. Now."

"Legolas..." Elrond swallowed against the pain and fear blocking his throat. "You are not going to Mandos. You are going to Imladris. To me... to Elrond."

"Going... to see Elrond?"

"Yes. You are going home to Elrond, who loves you very much."

"To Elrond?" Legolas sounded incredulous.

"Yes. You're going home to Elrond. Wouldn't you rather be with him than with Mandos? There are no rats in Imladris."

"No rats...." Legolas considered that so long, both Glorfindel and Elrond looked to see if he'd fallen asleep. Elrond shook him a little.

"Yes..." Legolas said slowly. "We should go to Imladris."

"To Elrond. Not to Mandos?"

"Mmmmhmm. Elrond. Can we go see Elrond?"

"Yes, we are on our way there now. You will be home very soon."

A faint smile crossed Legolas's face then, even as his eyes drifted closed once more. Legolas did fall asleep then, and Elrond let out an explosive breath.

"Can't say the words, can you?" Glorfindel growled. "You can't bring yourself to say, 'Legolas, I love you and need you to stay with me.'"

"I have said it," came the defensive protest.

"I haven't heard it. Neither has he." Shaking his head, Glorfindel nodded at Legolas, who was breathing evenly and oblivious in Elrond's arms. "Don't feel badly, young one. He doesn't listen to me or tell me he loves me, either."

Booting his horse in the flank, Glorfindel and his frustration rode ahead.

***

Seated next to Elrond that night and enjoying the rabbit stew he'd had the pleasure of catching, cleaning and cooking, Glorfindel nudged Elrond in the ribs and gestured with his wooden spoon. "You're being watched."

The rain had returned at dusk, offering a rainbow through the clouds as the sun had gone down, but drenching the earth and making Elrond worry after keeping Legolas dry. Commandeering a wagon, Elrond had positioned it close to the fire, settled Legolas beneath it, and had piled a number of blankets atop him. Two bright, shining eyes were all Elrond could glimpse in the firelight of the lump beneath the blankets that was Legolas. Those eyes, indeed, were watching him.

Setting aside his stew, the Elf-lord ladled up a helping for Legolas and went to kneel beside the wagon. "Are you hungry?"

Legolas shook his head. His gaze seemed fastened on something beyond Elrond, who turned to track what so fascinated his Elf. From Elrond's vantage point, all he could see was the host of Mirkwood readying themselves for the night. Warriors bedded down their families, parents settled their children. Games were ending, quiet time was beginning. Those on watch moved stealthily to the perimeter of the camp, vaulting onto low branches of trees to seek vantage points higher up. Others set up watch at the perimeter itself, their bows strung and arrows ready in their quivers. Elven eyes constantly scanned the darkness as the moon was obscured by clouds and the rain settled into a heavy drizzle.

"What are you looking at, Legolas?"

"In which direction are we going?" the elf hissed. "To Mirkwood or to Imladris?"

"To Imladris," Elrond answered levelly, "and we are among friends. Two-thirds of Thranduil's army left Mirkwood with us, and they now serve you. They are on their way to Imladris to live with us."

A look of open disbelief was Elrond's reward for that bit of news. Fighting free of the blankets and panting with the exertion, Legolas sat up and returned to watching his army with great suspicion.

"It's a trick. Thranduil is wicked that way, you know that."

"Legolas, I promise you, we are going back-"

"I will not go back," he hissed. "I will never go back. I will die first." He glanced around anxiously, then turned worried eyes toward Elrond. "I want a bow and some arrows, I've lost mine. No, did not lose them. His warriors took them from me, made me abandon them and my bow." Pain at the memory flashed through Legolas' eyes before returning to the stormy gaze of a moment before. "I need a bow, Elrond. Look out there - they are gathering even now!"

"A bow and... erm, certainly." Elrond gestured over one of the guard. "Might Legolas borrow your bow? He wishes to do his part in keeping watch over the camp."

Startled, the warrior glanced from Elrond to the invalid Legolas beneath the wagon, eyes wide in disbelief. Elrond merely raised his eyebrows, questioning the hesitation.

"Certainly, my lord." Kneeling, the guard handed his bow into Legolas' keeping. The quiver followed next, packed full of straight, beautiful arrows the Elven warrior himself had no doubt fletched. "I am honored that you believe my bow worthy to be of service to you, my prince."

"Thank you." Legolas offered a regal nod before testing the bow's strength.

His first pull was very brief as his damaged fingertips took the pressure of the bowstring. Hissing with pain, he releaseed the string, which caught and pulled at the careful wrappings. Clenching his jaw, Legolas once again set his fingers to the string and pulled. The draw was longer this time, though the archer's arms trembled under the strain. Legolas' muscles quivered, his bow arm shook, and bloodstains began seeping through the bandages. This time, the released string caught at the wrappings and pulled them askew.

Elrond sighed. "I'll need to rewrap that for you."

Setting an arrow to the string, Legolas tried a third time. Regardless the Elf did not let lose the arrow, the erratic travels of its tip bore witness of a new danger to the Elves of the camp for the prince's arrow could end up anywhere - or in anyone. The guard exchanged a worried glance with Elrond, who set a hand on the Elf's shoulder.

"Right now Legolas' state of mind is more important that his wounds," He murmured in a voice too low for Legolas to hear. "He hasn't enough strength to pull the bow and gain any distance, and this will not continue for long. Legolas' strength will not last this night, but your reassurance will. He will fall sleep soon, and your weapons shall be returned to you. I will mend any damage to his hands then, as well."

Nodding, the guard climbed to his feet and offered another bow of respect. "Shoot well, my lords."

Elrond watched the warrior depart, uncertain whether that was blessing or warning. Returning to the encampment some distance away from Elrond's fire, the guard alerted another warrior of his lack of weaponry. A glance their way, and the second warrior was loaning his bow and arrows for use on watch. With a smile and a nod, the original guard resumed his post.

Panting, Mirkwood's prince propped himself up against a wheel and positioned himself on watch against his own army. Given the betrayals he's experienced, I think I would as well, Elrond pondered as Glorfindel approached.

"Good evening, Legolas," he called cheerfully after seeing the wavering arrow suddenly pointed his way. "If you are hungry, you might try this." He handed the mug to Elrond, who bent and slid the stew Legolas' way.

Legolas turned his stormy, suspicious gaze from the newest intruder to the mug, then back again. But only for a moment, as the aroma from the stew rose beside him. From the way Legolas was eyeing the mug, Elrond thought it probable the Elf would sample the fare inside. But later rather than sooner as long as any perceived threat were near. With a gesture, Elrond gathered Glorfindel and left Legolas to his watch.

"Have you given any more thought to traveling a bit faster now that he's regaining a bit of his strength?" asked Glorfindel, watching Legolas position his bow and arrows very carefully before him. "Have you also thought of what might happen, should he actually take aim at anyone tonight? I don't think he's quite sound yet, do you?"

"No. But neither do I think our encampment will give him anything to fire at. They are all quite aware of the danger and will take care not to alarm him. Legolas is good for only another twenty minutes or so, after that he'll nod off again. My hope is that he will be set at his ease enough with a bow in his hands again to eat something."

Elrond drew a deep breath. "As for our traveling more quickly, I share your concerns for this army, and for Imladris with only my sons to guard it. Let the she-Elves and the children ride ahead with you to Imladris, where you may help ready homes for everyone. Leave a small host behind to travel with Legolas and me, and we shall follow at our own pace."

"I believe that would be best," Glorfindel agreed, watching as Legolas set aside his bow and took up the stew. Picking at it, the younger Elf sorted through the thick offering and sampled it as any Elfind would have--he saved what he liked and discarded into the dirt what he didn't care to eat.

"I think he might just be getting better," Glorfindel remarked, directing Elrond's attention toward Legolas. "Ah, look at that. I was so pleased at finding that for him, and look what he's doing with it!"

Turning, Elrond watching as Legolas' picked with bloody, half-wrapped fingers through Glorfindel's offering and flicked away another unwanted bit of sweet-root. Looking up with his mouth full, Legolas noticed their scrutiny. Glancing from Elf-lord to Elf-lord, he all but growled, "What?"

"Nothing," Elrond assured, waving a dismissive hand. "We were just talking."

Narrowing his eyes, Legolas set aside the stew and reached once more for the bow with stained fingers. Not wanting to defeat their purpose of having Legolas finish his dinner, they left the younger Elf to it. Moving back to their small fire, Elrond and Glorfindel settled down. Within minutes, Legolas had once more discarded the bow in favor of his supper and was picking anew at the contents. A few minutes more, and Legolas was blinking and yawning despite his best efforts to remain on watch. He soon nodded off with the bow cradled in his lap.

"There. Just as I told you," remarked Elrond.

"Did you drug him again?"

"What makes you ask that?" Elrond looked across at his companion.

"I no longer think you administer your herbs exclusively for your prince's comfort and healing. Again, I ask: what are you afraid of?"

Not bothering to answer, Elrond left Glorfindel to tuck in his Elf and return the bow to its rightful owner as he had promised.


	24. Chapter 24

CHAPTER 24

Mithrandir was within Imladris' library, trying to read some ancient tome or other but thinking how empty and wrong it was to be without its lord, when word came from the watchtower of the last homely house that Elrond's party had been sighted descending the twisting path leading down from the forest ridge. Gathering his robes and taking the stairs in all eagerness, the wizard was waiting in the courtyard when the first horses and their riders trotted through the ivy-stoned archway. A trio of Mirkwood warriors dismounted and Mithrandir stepped forward eagerly, only to be disappointed that none of them were

Legolas.

A great many of the refugee warriors were greeted by wives and children who had been waiting for them for days. The warriors in question were led off to new homes, to begin exploring the vast sanctuary that was now their home. They will find Elrond a more benevolent ruler than ever Thranduil was, Mithrandir reflected.

Footsteps pounded up from behind, and Glorfindel skidded to a halt beside the wizard, having run with no great decorum from whatever region of Imladris he had been tending when word had reached him that Elrond's party had been sighted.

"It's taken them long enough to get here," he grumbled. "All of the ice has melted from the river, and the flowers are starting to bloom. They probably stopped to pick a few on the way. Where are they?"

They appeared eventually, riding at the end of the tired group, as Elrond made certain everyone in his charge made it safely home.

Mithrandir's gaze swept over the assorted elves assembling before them. "Do you realize those escorting Elrond are none other than those Elves who originally took Legolas?"

Glorfindel nodded. "The gossip has informed me further that they took Legolas not once, but twice to dwell in the cold stone beneath Thranduil's keep. The king chose them well, for they were companions of Legolas' childhood. Wickedly clever, wasn't it? I couldn't raise weapons against my dearest friends were it to come to that. It will be interesting to see how Legolas receives them, once he has recovered."

The five warrior Elves in question rode in respectful silence, weary regret and guilt apparent on every face as they escorted their new lord and prince. Well they know how deeply they have betrayed him, Mithrandir realized.

Dismounting, the Mirkwood guard stood at attention and waited at the base of the stone stairway leading up to the last homely house. Glorfindel and Mithrandir stepped forward as one, the Elf-lord to steady Elrond's mount while the wizard reached up to take the young prince whom he had known since Legolas had been an elfling.

Elrond handed his charge down and winced as the dead-weight that was Legolas shifted. Mithrandir knew from his own adventures on the winding path leading down into Imladris that the journey had been long and arduous, an exercise in patience. The Valar alone knew how often Elrond had refused to give the care of Legolas over to someone else on the journey home since Glorfindel had left him; the wizard suspected it had been far too often.

Mithrandir had hoped Legolas might be conscious when he arrived, but that hope came to nothing. The sunlight cast a springtime glow about Legolas as he lay as still as death in the wizard's embrace, showing clearly that the Elf's arms were very thin, his skin translucent. Beside Mithrandir, Glorfindel caught his breath at the fragile life laid before them.

"My little leaf..." Mithrandir murmured, tears choking his voice. "What has been done to you?"

"What has not?" Glorfindel growled.

" 'm a'right, Mith." Legolas' voice was but a ghost of what Glorfindel had heard shouting through the fire that seemed to have happened aeons ago. "Need t' rest..." He blinked at him blearily, then squinted at him suspiciously. "'re you a rat?"

"A... rat?" The wizard looked to Glorfindel, startled by the accusation as Elrond dismounted.

"Long story," Glorfindel murmured. "He doesn't care much for rats. It's not an insult, Mithrandir; we are all rats these days."

Coming up beside Elrond, he steadied the Elf-lord as he stretched his back and forced the circulation back into his legs.

"I accused you of drugging Legolas because of the shame you feel at your bonding," Glorfindel whispered, holding Elrond's gaze and speaking quickly, that other ears might not hear. "Only now, after my absence, I see what you saw so clearly all along: bonding alone will not keep Legolas with you. Forgive me for doubting you."

"You did not doubt me," Elrond murmured. "You looked after Legolas. And you were right, my concern was not entirely for his physical well-being. I was acting partially through my fear. I still am, I believe, for I do not anticipate the conversation Legolas and I must have, once he is well enough to realize what I have done to him in the name of saving his life. No matter how fragile he may still be, I do not think he will die. As for the fate of his spirit..." Elrond's grey eyes were tired and sad. "That, I cannot -- dare not - predict."

"The damage done to body and soul by eight weeks in darkness under stone cannot be healed by eight weeks in sunlight and rain," Glorfindel said gently, trying to reassure his friend. "Both of you are home now. Both of you have time to heal."

"We shall see."

"At the very least, you shall both rest in a warm, dry bed tonight. Take comfort in your having seen him safe home from Thranduil's dungeons."

The twins descended the steps to interrupt their conversation in a tumbling rush that reminded Elrond of when they had been young Elves, eager to meet their father after a successful lesson or hunt.

"We're very glad to see you, Adar," Elladan began.

"Glad that you made it back," Elrohir finished. The conversation tumbled on, resembling the twins' own entrance.

"All has been made ready in your chambers, you must be tired-"

"And we know Legolas needs to rest."

"Would you care for some refreshment? All is well here."

"Glorfindel relayed your requests to see to the Mirkwood refugees-"

"And that we've done. Are doing."

"And will be doing for some time. There are quite a few of them. Thank you for sending Glorfindel on ahead-"

"We appreciate the warning. Aside from our Mirkwood guests, all has been quiet and is still quiet. We really had to do very little to keep things going. Let's get you upstairs."

"We readied your chambers for Legolas, thought you might want him with you." Looks were exchanged, grins appeared.

"Here, let me take your sword and cloak. Mithrandir, let us carry Legolas-"

"I think that your Adar would rather do that," the wizard contradicted as Elrond abruptly stepped forward.

And so Elrond did, retrieving his limp Elf with practiced ease and entering Imladris with Mithrandir, Glorfindel and his own sons hovering like watchful nannies at his side, admonishing him to mind the steps and be careful. Elrond didn't bother to even try to talk, and Glorfindel was contented eventually to be left at the foot of the stairs leading up to the Elf-lord's private chambers. In the end, only Mithrandir gained entrance with Elrond to those chambers, and that was only because the wizard shot such a fierce look at the twins that they

shrank back.

"H-here," said Elrohir, shoving his father's sword into Mithrandir's hands as the wizard prepared to ascend the steps. "This goes back onto Adar's bedroom wall."

The wizard saw the sword back on the wall before slipping around the Elf-lord and turning down the bedcovers. He then stoked the fire in the antechamber and watched while Elrond tenderly undressed his charge and redressed Legolas' hands and feet, as well as other miscellaneous wounds that needed attention.

"How is he really, Elrond?"

"He is healing," came the terse reply.

Coming up to stand beside the bed, Mithrandir stroked back the long blonde hair, swept his fingers down over the high cheekbones. The hollows beneath were even more pronounced than before. "Thranduil's cruelty is unbelievable. To have reduced one such as this to but a shadow of himself...."

"Legolas knew this would happen. He tried to warn me." Settling Legolas' newly bandaged hands atop the covers, Elrond sat on the edge of the bed. "I know now to listen to him. Never have I met such wisdom in one so young."

"In many ways, this one was born old."

Elrond's long fingers caressed Legolas' hair, moved down to cradle his cheek. Sighing, the Elf turned into the caress, as if to deepen it.

"Sleep now," he murmured. "You are safe home, Legolas, even as I promised."

"Saruman has the information Legolas and Glorfindel gleaned at Orthanc," Mithrandir relayed, thinking perhaps a change of subject might prove a welcome distraction. "Did Glorfindel relay it to you as well?"

"He did. Thank you, Mithrandir." Elrond fell into silence, staring down at Legolas where he lay so still, so pale against the bedclothes.

The wizard stood in silence a moment, watching, before venturing, "Glorfindel told me you and Legolas have bonded."

"Yes."

No further details were forthcoming, and the wizard dared press for none. Concentrating on his Elf, Elrond continued stroking the golden mane. Some deep worry obviously gnawed at him, regardless Legolas was home and healing. Mithrandir thought perhaps he could get more details from Glorfindel, now that his friends arrived and he might abandon pacing and start speaking. There certainly would be no further conversation from the Elf-lord today, not while he hovered over Legolas.

"I will leave you to it, then." Sketching a brief bow, Mithrandir left Elrond alone with Legolas.

***

Elrond remained upstairs with Legolas all that day and all of the night. He did not appear at morning meal the next day, and Mithrandir went in search of food only to find Glorfindel and the twins looking uneasy about a great many things.

"So you three are still running Imladris?" he queried, reaching for a sweet roll.

"Unfortunately," said a gloomy Glorfindel. For once, the twins were silent.

The rain punctuated their meal, the most quiet one Mithrandir could ever remember having in Imladris. Abruptly, one of the twins broke the silence -- Mithrandir didn't know which one it was, he could never tell them apart.

"They've bonded," said one twin. It was not a question.

"Yes," Glorfindel confirmed without embellishment, not looking up from his plate.

"Adar loves him, doesn't he?" asked the same twin.

"Very much," Glorfindel murmured. "Enough to leave Imladris to go after him."

"And Legolas loves Adar?" Again, the same twin.

"Of course," said Glorfindel.

"Thought so."

Glorfindel scowled, and the interrogating twin fell silent.

End of conversation. Mithrandir wished it wasn't, but what was to be done? His eagerness for answers would have to wait, it seemed, for Legolas to be back on his feet and explain what exactly had happened to bring him and Elrond together.

The twins exchanged a silent look between them before rising from their chairs. Leaving an unfinished meal in the form of crumbled bits of abused bread, the twins left the table and headed up the stairs toward their father's private chambers.

"I wouldn't interrupt him if I were you two," Glorfindel called behind them.

"We have business with Adar that will not wait," the leading twin called down over his shoulder.

The Elf sounded assertive, almost aggressive. Probably Elrohir, Mithrandir decided.

* * *

The twins appeared in the doorway to Elrond's private bedchamber without warning, standing shoulder to shoulder just beyond the threshold. "May we come in?"

Elrond looked up, startled from his reverie of staring down at Legolas while he slept. "Of course."

Moving into the room, Elladan stared down at his father's patient. "Will you allow him to wake soon?"

"Of course."

"And stay awake?" Elrohir pursued. Both twins were all too familiar with their father's usual habit of getting someone out of the way while he dealt with the injury; Elrond had used the same technique on them numerous times over the course of their childhood injuries.

"Legolas will awaken soon. No matter what Glorfindel or Mithrandir may say, and no matter what the two of you may think, Legolas has neede time to heal away from the pain."

"We know that, Adar."

"He awoke far too often on the road, which only caused him additional distress. I want nothing to remind him of Thranduil's filthy dungeons when he awakes. I want him to know the instant he awakes that he is safe within our walls."

Ignoring their father's glower at the absent and impotent enemy of Mirkwood, the twins stepped further into the chamber. Coming to stand side by side at the foot of the bed, they saw that Legolas' hands were no longer wrapped. Elrond had recently bathed his charge, had washed Legolas' hair and spread it out to dry over the pillows. Whispers had already spread, compliments of Erestor, to tell all within hearing that the Lord of Imladris had refused all help. That Elrond himself had carried Legolas down to the baths at dawn and back up again before

breakfast after issuing strict instructions that no one was to intrude on them.

Legolas was wearing a new night-robe--not one of the twins', but a new one of many that had been woven at Elrond's order. The fire, as always, was high, but today the terrace doors were closed to keep the spring chill away.

Exchanging a look, one twin nodded at the other as if to say, 'Go on'. Pulling something from his finger that could not be seen, Elladan held out his father's ring of power.

"You didn't ask for this back yet, but we want to return it anyway." The way he shoved it at his father left no doubt in the Elf-lord's mind that his sons wanted nothing more than for Vilya to be on any other fingers but their own--now and forever.

Taking the ring, Elrond considered it briefly in the winking light from the fire.

"In truth, I had forgotten to ask for it back." Looking sheepish, he continued, "I would have remembered when I had need of it. For the weather or some such." Pushing it onto his finger, Elrond watched with his sons as it disappeared, winking out of sight as if it had never been there at all.

"There. Imladris is back with its rightful owner," said Elrohir.

"Owner?" Elrond arched an eyebrow.

"Lord? Master?"

"Steward? Creator?"

"Why so uneasy, my sons?"

"Because we don't know what we're doing and you do. We'd like to return to our patrols-"

"We'll stay and help if you like, Adar, but you are home now-"

"And we think we'd be of better use to you out and about."

"--If that's all right with you?"

"If Legolas is well enough to wake, Adar, he will be well enough to want you to spend time taking care of Imladris and not neglect your duties."

"Given this a lot of thought, have you two?" Elrond interjected, smiling despite himself.

"-rather than neglect your duties as though he's an invalid or infant who needs looking after," Elladan finished.

"How long did it take you to think up that argument, and to memorize it?"

"Only half a day," said Elrohir. "We wanted to have it perfected and ready in case you thought we should continue taking care of Imladris--"

His brother elbowed him in the ribs, bringing him to abrupt silence.

"So you wish to return to your patrols?" Elrond was still smiling. "Will you take Mithrandir with you?"

"We hadn't planned on it."

"We think he'd rather stay here--"

"And help you take care of Legolas."

"No doubt he would, regardless I wish he would not." Giving a sigh, Elrond rose from the bed knowing that his time alone with Legolas would end, and soon. Leading the way from the bedchamber, he pushed open the terrace door. "I will let the two of you go because I know you must. Walk with me now in the gardens, and tell me more about your plans."

"Only if you will tell us more of Legolas' rescue."

Elrond nodded. "Fair enough, my sons."


	25. Chapter 25

CHAPTER 25

Waking slowly, Legolas dared not move for a long moment. He felt disoriented, as though he had been dreaming for a long time – heavy, scattered dreams filled with pain that made no sense, dreams where Elrond's touches had become bites, where the dripping sound of water turned into his father's mocking laughter, where cruelty had been tangled with kindness, darkness demolished light, and Elrond was lost to Legolas forever.

Thranduil and… and the rats were real. What of Elrond, of my my time with him in Imladris?" His stiff, still-sensitive fingers brushed the palm of his hand and he breathed a sigh of relief to feel the seared, scarred skin there. It was real. He was real. But the darkness was real as well, as were the dungeon, the rats, the despair. Legolas was not so foolish as to believe the bad things had all ended.

His fingers felt tender, as did his toes beneath the covers. The calluses on the tips of his fingers were gone; new skin was there, entirely worthless to an archer. He would have to regrow the calluses, and fletching and releasing arrows in any great number would be difficult for some time. If I am actually ever given the opportunity to fletch another arrow, he thought with some bitterness, much less protect anyone I love from harm again. Has Thranduil thought up some other diabolical plan to finally bring me out of the darkness? Where am I now?

Rolling over slowly, he pushed aside the shadows of dreams for the moment and slitted open his eyes. There in the nearest corner sat his own familiar bow and his ornate-peacock quiver. No matter he had lost them in Mirkwood's great forest, they were with him again, anyway. Is this Mandos' halls then? Opening his eyes a little wider, he saw the handles of his knives glittering in the sunlight streaming through the door. They sat safely in their sheathes attached to the quiver, old friends who appeared ready for service at his command.

Where AM I? Something gnawed at the edge of his mind, for he knew this room, had awakened here before. Its door stood ajar, as if someone had been checking on him frequently, someone occupying a much larger chamber beyond this one's narrow confines. A chamber connecting to this one as Legolas himself had felt connected in friendship and growing love with its owner before leaving for Dol Guldur half of a lifetime before.

Legolas could feel a cool breeze wafting from the open door leading onto the terrace beyond that room. Birds sang spring songs filled with the promise of nests and new life, offering fragile, unbelieveable testimony that he'd been given a second chance in this, his own life. Not daring believe it, Legolas narrowed his eyes and lifted his chin. If this was illusion and Thranduil or Mandos waited out there on that terrace, Legolas would confront them head on. One thing is certain: Elrond will not be there. Elrond is safe in the real Imladris, where Mandos and my father will not go.

Pushing back the covers, Legolas slipped out of the bed. His legs felt as wobbly as a newborn colt's, as if he'd not used them for a great long time and had no been meant by some to ever use them again. Sunlight streamed in from the chamber beyond, and Legolas sniffed the air. The scent of roses – subtle and seductive – wafted on the breeze.

A tall wardrobe dominated the wall beside his bow. Tottering over to it, Legolas found new clothing waiting for him, just as it had in the other Imladris. Needing new clothing in Imladris seems a recurring feature of this nightmare.

But was it a nightmare? The clothes smelled like Elrond, and Legolas couldn't recall ever dreaming of a scent before. He wasn't usually weak in dreams either, didn't find himself panting in fatigue as he moved from wardrobe to bed. No, this dream was far too real.

Pulling on a pair of new leggings and a tunic, Legolas found a set of new boots waiting in the bottom of the wardrobe. I would not think to dream of new boots, he realized, his heart beating faster and faster to think perhaps he wasn't in Mandos' halls. Not daring to believe, nor even to hope, he yanked on the new boots and hurried as fast as his newly healedbody would take him through the door leading into Elrond's chamber.

He nearly wept at the sight of the well-worn chair, the table piled high with books and what-nots. The chamber was empty but just over there was a robe thrown haphazardly over another chair. Grabbing it up, Legolas buried his nose in it. Yes… that was Elrond. And Elrond was not in the Halls of Waiting. Elrond was in Imladris. I think that I might be as well. Tears escaped his eyes then; he wiped them away on the robe. Yes, the chamber was empty, but it was exactly as he remembered it, and something told Legolas its owner would not always be away. He's just nearby… and I can find him.

He smile at the clutter, the endless books and the chair were Elrond had tried to seduce him – those were no dreams. The medicinals cabinet sat just over there, reeking of a strange combination of herbal oils and ointments – combinations Legolas was in no hurry to get to know again anytime soon.

The seal of Elrond twinged sympathetically in the palm of his hand: Legolas scratched at it absently and remembered all too clearly the first night he had spent in this chamber. How intimidated he had been by its owner. How quickly things can change. And how glad I am that they have.

But where was Elrond?

Pulling back the terrace door, Legolas slipped out into the garden. A brilliant array of flowers greeted him, nestled among evergreen shrubs and a collection of trees who had been only spindly sticks in the dead of winter when he had seen them last. The rose bush beckoned… the same that Elrond had originally introduced him to. Stepping down the steps to greet the rose bush properly, Legolas was careful not to test his ill-used muscles too quickly.

"Hello, old friend," he greeted the rose bush, now in full bloom. The rose that had bloomed in winter was a naked, shriveled bud now. As Elrond had predicted, it had known only frost and freezing for its efforts. Reaching out, Legolas broke off the bud, to offer renewal to the stem behind it. I think you are very much like this rose - so willing to throw away your eternity in a loveless bond. You were made for better things, Elrond's voice came back to him.

Legolas smiled to himself. He was right, I was made for him. What was hidden from me then is so clear to me now.

"The world turned from winter into spring while you slept," a low, familiar voice spoke from behind him.

Whirling, Legolas all but toppled over. Catching his balance, he grinned. "Mithrandir, it's good to see you."

Strong, spindly arms enfolded the elf: the scent of pipeweed all but choked him. "It is good to see you as well, youngling. Good to see you on your feet again and looking as if you might live after all. I'm not certain though that you should be out of bed. How do you feel?"

"Disoriented," came the honest answer. "As if I was a long time away and would rather not recall where I've been."

"An apt description. Have you seen Elrond?"

The elf shook his head. "He is not within."

Mithrandir frowned. "That's odd, as he's not left your side for the past week. Still, Glorfindel has been speaking of spring foalings and grumbling about the stable help's singular lack of talent. Your Elrond may be off to the stables to sooth Glorfindel's ruffled plumage."

"He came for me," Legolas said quietly, feeling the wonder of it for the first time. "He who should never – must never – leave Imladris. He came for me, and I can scarcely believe that I am here."

"Elrond loves you very much. But then again, I suppose you know that."

"As I love him."

No hesitation, no tension to that admission. Mithrandir looked up sharply at the elf only to find the blue eyes meeting his were extraordinarily clear.

Late one night, in a moment of shared confidences and swearings to secrecy, Glorfindel had relayed to Mithrandir the exact details of Elrond's bonding with Legolas. Mithrandir had the feeling that the Elf walking beside him was very much unaware of what had transpired.

"They love each other," Glorfindel had said. "I predict that their bond will grow stronger than any friendship or intimacy might allow."

"That is your prediction is it?" Mithrandir sighed and blew smoke out from his nostrils. "I fear that Elrond may ultimately succeed where Thranduil has always failed."

"Where is that?"

"Legolas may well shatter, break and fade while beating himself against the bars of this commitment made against his consent." Grey eyes held Glorfindel's blue.

"You love him," Mithrandir murmured, dragging himself back to the present. "That is well, youngling." He was careful not to ask what sort of love it was that Legolas felt. The wrong sort of love will break both their hearts.

"Is it so strange that I should love him?" Legolas' voice shook the wizard free of his ponderings. "He saved my life and much waits to be said between us. I must find him."

With that, Legolas strode out across the garden, heading for the stables in search of the Elf-lord who had saved his life. He saved your life, but at what cost? the wizard wondered. Certainly, you feel gratitude for what Elrond has done, but you cannot know yet that he has imprisoned you both in a passionless bond. I dread to discover the cost of that.

Five Days Later

Drumming his fingers on the arms of Elrond's chair, Legolas sprang from its confines to pace once, twice, three times around the private chambers that supposedly belonged to the Elf-lord.

Legolas was having serious doubts that Elrond still claimed these chambers, regardless his possessions were still strewn about. He knew that Elrond had not set foot across the threshold since Legolas had awoken, five days before. He is avoiding me. But why? What have I done? How have I hurt him? And how can I make it right if he won't even look at me, much less talk to me?

Over the past few hours, Legolas had walked what seemed miles of Imladris, only to beg a horse from Glorfindel: "A gentle mount, nothing too spirited to land me on my head as you seem to think that Thranduil's treatment of me has somehow interferred with my ability to stay ahorse."

His demands had been delivered in a tone so sarcastic, so drippingly dry, that Glorfindel had claimed to be, "Surprised the frost of your breath hasn't shriveled up and shattered on the stable floor while we've stood here arguing."

"I am not arguing with you. And contrary to all appearances, I am not angry with you," Legolas had offered. "I am frustrated with the Lord of Imladris. Either give me the mare and let me continue my search, or tell me where Elrond is."

He'd gotten the mare. She had allowed him access to parts of Imladris he hadn't seen, and enabled him to make a discovery almost more astonishing than the fact that Elrond had come to rescue him from Thranduil's clutches.

Riding deep into a valley behind Elrond's main house, Legolas urged his mare over one more hill. Clearing the crest of it, he stopped dead to see an Elven enclave nestled below: one whose layout and construction mirrored one he knew all too well. Riding hard down the hill, he had confronted the first elves he saw, who had shouted their joy at the sight of him, surrounded his horse and pulled him into their midst. Despite his best intentions to leave before the moon rose and perhaps to find Elrond presiding over the evening meal in the Great Hall, the elves of Mirkwood had kept Legolas busy with apologies, food, conversation and song deep into the night.

His friends and some he had thought became his enemies – mainly those who had captured and dragged him before his father – had left Mirkwood because of him. Because of him and his father's cruelty against him.

"We've renounced our loyalty to Thranduil," an erstwhile captor and childhood friend had said through gritted teeth. "We've broken all bonds, have sworn to protect and serve you and Lord Elrond. Forever."

"We won't be going back," another had said, pulling him into a fierce hug. "Forgive me, my prince. Forgive us all, we beg you."

"Bring up the subject again when I can wield a sword and properly pull a bow. It's then you'll have the fight I wanted to give you, first in Thranduil's chambers and again on the edge of the forest of Mirkwood."

Five pair of Elven eyes had widened at Legolas' tones. One or two Elves visibly blanched at the thought of confronting a very angry Legolas who appeared set on stalking and fighting them in Imladris' woods sometime in the future. His skills, they knew, were far and away better than their own.

"After the fight," Legolas had concluded, "I'll consider forgiving you."

"It's more than we hoped for," one of the Elves ventured humbly, "and much more than we deserve.

Secretly, Legolas was astonished to learn that fully two-thirds of Thranduil's army and their families lay in this valley, taking up their lives again as calmly and happily as you please, just over the hill from the Elf-lord whom Thranduil had done his best to make them hate.

"The King of Mirkwood lost more than his youngest son when he condemned you to death among the rats," one of his father's personal guard told Legolas as he was accompanied him back to the main house where he would resume his search for its elusive lord. "Thrandil lost us when he lost himself. We won't ever go back."

Legolas had found his people – another miracle wrought by Elrond's coming after him – but he couldn't find Elrond. The Elf-lord was always somewhere else, it seemed: out in the stables, riding fences in case they needed mending, tending an injured horse in the north field, looking over new homesteads for the people of Mirkwood, in meetings, negotiating yearling sales, inspecting new foals… it was always something. And it was nothing that Legolas should not have been sharing with him.

Legolas would have searched harder and faster, but much to his frustration, whether on horseback or on foot, he still tired easily. His body demanded more rest and far more sleep than ever it had, so that more than once Legolas found himself nodding off in Elrond's empty chamber, only to awake tucked in his own bed like an exhausted young elfling. More than once, Legolas awoke in the night to the quiet murmur of Elrond and Glorfindel's voices in the next room, but try as he might, Legolas could not seem to rouse himself enough to go to them. To join them. To see and speak with Elrond.

And so it was that, five days after awaking and finding himself safe in Imladris, Legolas sat on Elrond's terrace with a baby bow borrowed from Imladris' archery master. He twanged endless arrows from it and into a baby target set up in the garden, determined to build up the calluses on his right hand so that he might restore his real archery prowess.

He stayed there all day, and still Elrond did not appear.


	26. Chapter 26

CHAPTER 26

Four more days of plinking arrows, and Legolas' calluses were thickening nicely. He then quite deliberately began fletching arrows in the Elf-lord's chamber.

He stacked the books on the floor, shoved the parchments into the desk and closed it over them. Bundling up Elrond's robe, Legolas tossed it onto the bed and gathered his own fletching supplies. Leaving endless feathers and string, rough shafts and sharp arrowheads scattered about, Legolas thought that if he could take over the chamber and irritate Elrond enough, the Elf-lord would seek out Legolas and tell him to stop it. That, at least, would begin a conversation between them. But Legolas still fell asleep deep in the night. Morning merely saw his messy bits and pieces scooped aside into neat little piles on the floor or the table and left for him to finish.

Finish them he did: his new arrows were gathered and tied into neat little bundles and left in the middle of the chamber floor for Elrond to trip over whenever he deigned to enter the room. The next morning they were stacked neatly beside Legolas' own wardrobe.

Legolas was at a loss to explain how the Elf-lord or his servant had made several trips inside his bedchamber without Legolas stirring in his sleep. I am still that fatigued? he thought, more than a little disgusted with his weak body.

His calluses and his arrows were complete. So was his frustration.

Sometimes he dreamed that Elrond came to him in the night, stood beside his bed and smoothed his hair only to go away again. Some great sadness always invaded the dream – a sadness that Legolas began sensing was more than a dream during the day. He wanted to wake, to sit up, to reach out to the Elf-lord, to ask what misery he carried, but Legolas' eyelids were far too heavy. His body was too infuriatingly frail; try as he might, he could not override his fatigue.

Why won't he come to me, and why is he so sad? Legolas wondered. What have I done to disappoint him or hurt him so badly that he cannot bear the sight of me?

When I am stronger, I will find him. I must.

Legolas was tempted to invade the Great Hall, to try seeking out the Lord of Imladris there, but Erestor had informed him that Elrond came late to the Great Hall, and Legolas was lothe to reveal to all the host of Imladris that its lord could not bear the sight of him. Elrond had declared their betrothal before everyone: Legolas could not reveal their shame before those same Elves. He had to find another way.

And so, Legolas schooled himself to patience – more patience than he could ever feel his maddening, recalcitrant, slow-healing body deserved.

Days before, he deliberately left off searching for Elrond. Days before, he began forcing himself to rest when his body asked for it, worked with his weapons only when he felt up to it, and listened to other physical demands that irritated him, but that he knew he could no longer afford to ignore. He set a schedule of healing and had stuck to it. Despite all desires to the contrary, Legolas did not overextend himself, he ate whatever Erestor brought – obviously at Elrond's orders, for his frequent meals came in the form of terribly healthy selections in far larger quantities than Legolas would ever have selected on his own, and Erestor had to know it.

Legolas' determination finally paid off, in the form of his body finally regained the form and the strength he had enjoyed when he had returned from Dol Guldur with Glorfindel. Legolas; archery skills were dead on once again, his knifework almost restored. He felt better and moved as he once had. He also didn't have to sleep but once every three days – if need be. Which definitely leaves more time for me to look for HIM.

Came the night – a moonstruck night – when Legolas knew without doubt that Elrond would be in the stables. He knew, because a smiling Glorfindel had told him so when Legolas had dared lurk near the entrance to the Great Hall, wanting to see within but not be seen.

"His absence is getting ridiculous, is it not?" Glorfindel had offered conversationally to the Elf lurking about in the cloak.

"Past ridiculous," the cloak had responded.

"He'll spend tomorrow with Assassin, riding the fenceline, and he'll end it with him as well," Glorfindel offered. "He'll feed and water and groom that stallion when the sun goes down, and that's where you'll find him tomorrow night if you've a mind to do so, my friend."

If he had a mind to do so… a mind to trap Elrond in that stall, where he would be unable to escape the small space if an Elf were to block the door. The Elf-lord could vault over the wall, but someone of Elrond's stature would certainly bang his head on the ceiling beam and look ever so silly crashing down into the manure. As looking silly was something Elrond was not in the habit of doing, Legolas thought he might actually obtain a conversation with his quarry that night.

He WILL talk to me then, Legolas thought. He WILL tell me why he has been avoiding me. No matter what I have done to him, I have had enough of this.

Vaulting lightly down from the garden wall surrouonding Elrond's terrace, Legolas headed down the gravel path and nearly ran into Erestor coming up the same path. The majordomo stepped back a pace, only to gasp in wonder and lean forward once more. Here, then, was the Elf to whom his master was bonded… a slender, almost wraithlike creature with alabaster skin glowing in the moonlight, and feline grace and beauty. Legolas' long hair danced in the breeze, while shadows threw his cheekbones into high relief, rendering him sculpted in the night like brittle porcelain. This was what Thranduil had tried to destroy: this was what Elrond had brought back from the edge of death. And this is what Erestor wanted, no matter it belonged to another.

He grows more beautiful every week, and I want him, Erestor thought. His mistake was to breathe the thought aloud.

That blonde head came up, the glittering eyes narrowed. Legolas growled. I don't want you. He took a step forward.

Erestor leaped back and found himself standing off of the path with no memory of having made the conscious choice to stand there. The majordomo stared after the slender figure striding away from him in the moonlight. Legolas didn't spare a look back.

The way to survive the hurt of his heart, the pain and the guilt at having bonded with Legolas against his will, Elrond had discovered, was to stay with Assassin as much as possible. The still-powerful stallion did not care that his supposedly wise owner had forever betrayed the one he swore to protect above all others. Assassin eagerly accepted the treats and the oats that Elrond brought; the stallion munched contentedly on the hay Elrond delivered; he drank his fill of the water Elrond provided. Assassin's needs were simple, he did not call an Elf-lord to account for his deception. It was easier to manage a stable, Elrond discovered, than to seek love where there would only be guilt and condemnation.

The days passed and he accomplished much, but Elrond knew all too well that it was a false peace he had forged within himself. Glorfindel retreated nights to his chamber inside Imladris, while Elrond insisted that he preferred watching over the foals. It had been a reasonable enough thing to want during foaling season; he'd managed to see every foal on the ground and had lost no one through his diligence. But the need to sleep in the stable was weeks gone. Still he remained with the horses: his bed within Imladris remained empty, though he often returned to his chambers deep in the night at Glorfindel's insistence to discuss any number of things… and to check on Legolas who for some reason had not abandoned Elrond's rooms to seek a place with the Mirkwood Elves.

"He's not going to join them, you fool," Glorfindel had scolded. "Legolas is waiting for you."

Why he was waiting, Elrond dared not contemplate.

Assassin waited for him as well, showing far more patience after the fire had damaged his lungs than the stallion had before. Horse and Elf-lord shared quiet, private time each night, when Elrond brushed down Assassin and combed out his mane. It was then that Elrond fell back into sharing confidences with his equine companion as he used to as a child in Gil-Galad's house, as he had later as a terrifed young warrior in Gil-Galad's army.

Tonight, all of the confidences had been told. Instead, Elrond busied his fingers by braiding a bit of mane: the Seal of Elrond might have been retired, but his singular braiding techniques still told all who might care to look that this particular stallion was his.

"Almost done," he murmured, patting the stallion's neck. Assassin's hay was long gone: the horse merely stood now, dozing under Elrond's kind hands, at peace with his master close by.

That peace ended abruptly and without warning when someone bounded into the stable only to leap over the stall wall, as easily as if it were not there at all. Whirling in the small space, Assassin lashed out with his hind feet, seeking to protect Elrond from the intruder and nail whoever it was against the stall wall.

Whirling with the stallion, the intruder murmured something Elrond could not hear. Placing a hand on the stallion's nose, he let Assassin catch his scent. Snorting, the stallion shifted his weight back and pawed at the dirt. In the end, however, it was all for show. Quieting, Assassin stretched his neck toward the intruder, who scratched above his nostrils and murmured softly.

"Be at peace… it's just me."

The dust settled, the moon came out from behind the clouds, and there was no mistaking the glittering blue eyes, the silver-streaked mane of the Elf staring up at him from across Assassin's withers. Winding his fingers in the stallion's mane, Legolas began parting a windmat.

Elrond's shaking fingers sought the half-finished braid. Concentrating on it, he tried hard to figure out a way to gracefully – or not so gracefully – exit the stall. Problem was, the door was on the other side of horse and intruder: to leave, Elrond would not only have to clamber over Assassin, he would have to run over Legolas. It made little sense to trample and reinjure one you'd fought so hard to heal over the last two months.

The braid was finished; a windmat was conquered. Legolas reached for another, so did Elrond. Assassin began dozing again. Elrond's hands still shook. Other hands – warm hands -- found his. Fingers folded over fingers, squeezing mane and reassurance between them.

"Be at peace," came the whispered admonishment, so softly that Elrond wasn't certain he had heard the words spoken aloud. Gathering as much courage as it had taken for him to face the Dark Lord on the slopes of Mount Doom, Elrond drew breath to speak.

"How are you feeling?"

A smile in the dark; a shadowed dimple for his trouble. "Much better. Almost myself, thanks to you."

He could think of nothing to say to that. Staring at Assassin's neck, Elrond stilled his fingers, wondered at Legolas' light tough as he picked a windmat over Elrond's hands.

"I miss you," the younger Elf murmured.

"I am right here."

"In body perhaps, and not willingly." Abandoning the wind-mat, Legolas curled his fingers around Elrond's. "Please be with me in this moment, speak to me. Tell me what I have done that you wish to avoid me so completely, and how may I make it right?"

Elrond's head came up at that. "You cannot think—" he began, grey eyes searching Legolas'. "You've done nothing. I want only peace for you."

Legolas cocked his head. "Why would I not be at peace?"

"You haven't been well for some days."

"I am well now."

"Yes, I see that."

Legolas' smile faded in the next moment, his eyes widening and darkening in the same instance. Elrond felt his shoke, his withdrawal a moment before Legolas pulled his fingers away from Elrond.

"Oh, Elbereth," Legolas breathed, stepping back. "I can see it… feel it. You… you've bonded."

"Yes."

"I…" The Elf's breathing grew more rapid. Backing against the stall wall, he splayed his fingers on the smooth wood behind him and stared at Elrond. Swallowing hard, Legolas tried once more. "I am… happy that you have found someone to love. And I congratulate you on rendering ineffectual Thranduil's plans for the two of us. Well done, my lord."

"Legolas­­—"

"Please accept my apologies for not respecting your distance, I did not understand. Of course I will find somewhere else to live now that you have­­—"

"Legolas—" Elrond interrupted once more. "All is not as it might appear to be, but we cannot discuss it here." Please understand, others may be listening. Coming around Assassin, Elrond saw that the silvered eyes meeting his were filled with a sadness that only confused the Elf-lord. Laying a hand on Legolas' shoulder, he found that the Elf was trembling.

"I should not have sought you tonight."

"Yes, you should have. More than that, I should have come to you long before this. Will you return with me to my chambers and let me explain?"

A single nod. Silently, with his head bowed, Legolas followed Elrond from the stable.


	27. Chapter 27

CHAPTER 27

How could I have been so stupid, Legolas wondered, heartsick and staring at the ground as he followed Elrond toward the main house, and why did no one tell me he has bonded with another?

The wondrous hope held in the moonlit night had faded completely. Tears welled up in Legolas' eyes, he brushed them away and forced them back with vicious effort. My father will not hurt him now, and I am free of the ill-conceived agreement to bond. I should be eager to celebrate his happiness and my freedom, Legolas thought. Why, then, do I feel only shock and betrayal?

Idly, Legolas realized they had moved into Elrond's private gardens. Falling back on the widening path, Elrond walked beside Legolas in silence for some distance. Glancing sideways at his companion, Legolas realized that some time in the past, no doubt while avoiding the prince from Mirkwood, Elrond had discarded his robes. He walked now in a tunic, leggings and boots resembling Legolas' own except for their darker color. He must have been spending a great deal of time with the horses, Legolas realized.

"I would speak with you alone," said Elrond, his voice low and quiet. "I would have no possible witness to my confession… my shame."

Legolas' reply was equally as quiet. "I do not understand, my lord. Did you not journey to Mirkwood and free me?"

"Yes, but—"

"I told you I was not worth the risk. Yet I cannot deny my gratitude that you came."

"I told you I would come. You are free of your father, he will never trouble you again."

Legolas nodded. "You are free of him, my lord, but I am not. I think returning to Mirkwood would be a great mistake on my part. I shall have to consider where to go."

Halting on the path, Elrond turned to stare down at his companion. "You would leave me… leave Imladris so soon?"

Legolas stared at the gravel. "Forgive me, Lord Elrond, but I must be honest. I cannot remain here, cannot bear to watch…" Swallowing heard, the younger Elf struggled to continue. "Your companion will not wish to have me about."

"My… what?" Elrond rocked back. "What companion?"

"Your wife."

"Celebrian is dead," Elrond said with some confusion. "You know that."

"Your new wife then."

"I have no wife."

Raising his head, Legolas looked hard at the elf-lord. "Am I to understand then that you have taken another male to be with you? Glorfindel perhaps?"

"Glorfindel?" Elrond shook his head in seeming bewilderment. "I don't know why—"

Balling his fingers into fists, Legolas stepped forward, almost onto Elrond's toes. The smell of horse and leather and something indefinably Elrond filled his senses, making the rage billowing over him no less powerful for all that his heart sang to be close to the Elf lord once more. Clutching Elrond's arm so hard it would probably bruise, the younger Elf demanded, "Tell me what I did to become so abhorrant that you chose to mate with another?"

"I have not mated with another."

"You would add lies now to the distance between us?" Legolas asked, incredulous.

"I have deceived you only once," Elrond rejoined, his voice choked, "and that deception I shall pay for all my days, no matter it was meant to save your life."

"I would rather have died beneath my father's keep that have you abandon me now."

"I have not abandoned you."

"You heal me, only to mate with another and desert me?"

"I have not mated with another!" Elrond all but shouted the words. "Why would you assume this?"

"I am not blind, and you have bonded," Legolas snarled. "You have avoided me for weeks under the pretense, no doubt, of letting me heal. Your household watched while I searched for you, did not see fit to inform me that your bonding had taken place…When, Elrond? Did you wait until I was scarce outside your gates before taking your mate? Or did you wait until after you had risked your life – nay, the wellbeing of this very valley – to bring me home from Imladris? Did your joining happen while I lay unconscious and abed?"

"It happened on the road to Imladris," Elrond said miserably.

"Then you did bond with Glorfindel."

"I did not. I bonded with you."

"I should have known it would be Glorfindel, no other choice would have silenced Thranduil so effectively—WHAT?" Legolas stilled, his slender body tense, his blue eyes widening.

Two large hands came to rest on his shoulders. Elrond bowed his head and murmured, "My shame and my deceit, Legolas, is that I bonded with you on the road from Mirkwood. You were dying and unconscious, perhaps at the very gates of Mandos. Joining with you, I called you back. Selfishly, perhaps, but there you are."

"You… took me."

Elrond's hands slid away from Legolas' shoulders. "Perhaps, one day, I shall see forgiveness in your eyes for this most grievous of deceptions, Legolas. But I am not sorry you are free of your father."

"We're bonded," Legolas whispered. "There is no one else."

"In time, I know that you will wish another. How can you not?" Elrond sounded miserable. "You will take a lover, someone who will not deceive you. In the meantime, your life is your own. Under my protection, you may leave Imladris and travel as you will, freely and without threat."

Turning away, Elrond made his way quickly down the path. Legolas trotted behind him, followed the tall Elf-lord up the terrace steps and into his chambers.

"You wish me to leave Imadris?"

"Never. But I know you will go." Settling slowly into his chair, Elrond picked up an arrowhead from the pile on his table. "How could you not go, for you are right: I have lied to you. Deceived you… perhaps entrapped you as completely as your father wished." He turned the arrowhead in the candlelight. "You will never know how much I have enjoyed having you here… having your things scattered about."

Slowly, carefully, Legolas came to sit in the chair opposite Elrond, to lean forward and listen intently as he continued.

"I used to watch from a distance, out there in the garden, while you made your arrows. Your bright head would bowcso intently over each shaft while you cut the feathers, tied on these heads. I would venture in after you had gone to sleep, knowing how deeply you slept in your fatigue. I would carry you to your bed and watch over you through the night. I have asked Elbereth to grant you happiness apart from me—"

"Why apart from you, my Elrond?" A pale, slender hand reached out to stroke the Elf-lord's hand.

"You will not wish to stay with me. Not after this." Elrond set the arrowhead back in its pile. Sad grey eyes met Legolas' blue. Elrond's fingers curled around Legolas'. "I saved your life by stealing your eternity.'

"You have stolen nothing." Legolas smoothed Elrond's thumb with his own. Smiling faintly, he murmured, "Do you know this is where I sat that first night in your chamber? The first night I felt your touch?"

"I tried seducing you that night." Elrond looked away, his shame all too evident.

"Not seriously." Sliding out of the chair, Legolas knelt beside Elrond. Enfolding Elrond's hands in both of his, Legolas began stroking the soft skin on the inside of Elrond's wrist, let his fingers play with the Elf-lord's. "You must know that I've spent weeks searching for you."

"I do not know why."

"There are things I would tell you. Things I learned in the darkness."

"The darkness that is Dul Goldur?" Elrond whispered.

Legolas shook his head, continued stroking Elrond's hand. "Glorfindel and Mithrandir carry the message learned in that darkness. No… the time I spent beneath Thranduil's keep was not ill-spent, and there are things I need to say. Things I now believe you need to hear."

"I came for you as quickly as I could."

"You should not have come at all." Lifting Elronds hand to his lips, Legolas unlaced his own hands long enough to kiss the Elf-lord's palm. Elrond's head came around, he stared down at Legolas, who offered a warm, shy smile. "You should not have com, but I am glad you did. I had much time to think in the darkness--too much time and too little to eat, I suppose. I came to cherish the memory of being here, in Imladris."

Elrond looked away again. "It is a peaceful place. I am glad you had those memories."

A slender hand captured Elrond's chin, pulled his face around gently. "I would ask that try you set aside the guilt you feel, as well as your assumptions regarding what I feel. Can you do that for me while we talk?"

Tired grey eyes filled with unshed tears. Slowly, imperceptively, Elrond nodded.

"I took out my memories of being with you, of being loved by you… for I realized that your patience and your deep caring, as well as your letting me go, were all because you loved me. I took them out and I looked at them, lived them again one by one, over and over again. I missed you, my Elrond, and felt a deep sorrow that I would die with the rats and you would never know that I loved you as well. I came to realize that your vision of my imprisonment had not been of Dul Goldur, but of Mirkwood's prison, and I knew that I was doomed because I had not trusted your love nor listened to your fears."

"Legolas…."

"The days passed and the darkness never eased, so I did not know their number. No one came but the rats. They overwhelmed my small space, and I could not sleep. There was nothing to eat. I went a little mad, and it occurred to me that my time with you had been nothing but a dream." Turning his left hand, Legolas traced the seal of the House of Elrond. "And yet, I had this… it was the only thing I had left, for I could no longer trust my memories. And this—your seal—it comforted me, for it meant my memories were real. Once, I had belonged to you. I wished then that we had bonded, for I wanted to belong to you forever."

"Surely that was the madness talking?" Elrond dared to whisper.

Legolas shook his head. "I am not mad now. I still feel the same way, and if you would but open your heart and your mind to our bond, you would sense that."

"I… cannot. Surely you would stay with me only out of fear of your father--"

"I would stay because I love you. But I have more to tell you, and you promised to try setting aside your assumptions where my feelings for you are concerned."

"I did," Elrond rasped.

Bracing his arm on Elrond's thighs, Legolas turned his hand so that the seal of the House of Elrond was visible. Tracing the deep, white scar with one finger, Legolas said, "Do you remember the early days between us, Elrond? Remember when you coaxed me into letting you tend this wound? Do you remember what you said?"

"I remember tending the burn. I cannot remember…."

"You doubted you could force me into letting you take care of me. Do you still believe that?"

Elrond smiled faintly. "I doubt anyone could force you into anything, my prince."

"Then consider: how could you force me to bond with you? I was willing, else I would have died before you took me."

Elrond made a dismissive gesture. "You were unconscious. Unaware of my touching you."

"No. I remember."

"What do you remember?"

"A mist-covered moon, our resting on thick moss before sliding into a pool of dark water, and your lips on mine. Your body cradled my own and your chest was agaisnt my back, your breath was in my hair. Your warm hands tended me, you washed my hair and became upset when you poured water into my eyes. You held me safe and told me that all would be well. You wept as you thrust slowly into me, the water and something else easing your passage so that you did not hurt me. You kissed my ear and told me you loved me, and in my mind I welcomed your touch and answered you. I was happy, drifting against your soul, and wanted nothing more than to curl against your heart and let you take all of the pain away. You remember as well, don't you?"

"Yes," Elrond breathed, staring down at Legolas. "But how is this possible? You lay so still in my arms that night, and for hours afterward."

"I thought it was all a dream, that I was still imprisoned and having a very nice dream, but yes, I was aware and I wished my dream were real. You know that I did not fight you, Elrond, not in body, mind or spirit. I turned away from the peace of Mandos' hall and returned to be with you. Only you. Had I been more conscious, I would have made you aware how very welcome was your touch."

"How do you know it was me?"

"How do I know that Glorfindel interrupted and irritated you immensely that night?" Legolas laughed lightly at Elrond's startled look. "My dream was real. Yours was the voice in my ears, yours the arms holding me. Did I not press close to your heart as you filled me with your soul? I did not fight, nor did I flee to Mandos' halls. I was warm and safe and complete, and I wanted to stay with you. I no longer wished the rats to win or for death to take me. I wanted my dream to go on and on, why else would I be so angry tonight at the thought that you had bonded with Glorfindel?"

Elrond stared down at Legolas in amazement. "Glorfindel is a dear friend and I love him, but not once have I ever considered bonding to him."

"Not even to save me from Thranduil?"

"Not even then."

"That is well."

Was I so immersed in worry and dread that I missed your responses that night?" Elrond breathed.

Threading his fingers through Elrond's hair, Legolas reached up to kiss him gently. "Perhaps words of remembrance are not enough, my lord?" Laughing lightly, Legolas carded his fingers through the Elf-lord's dark mane. "Shall we repeat the experience? If so, I assure you that my contribution shall be more obvious this time."

"Are you laughing at me?" Elrond demanded.

"I am, because your guilt and your worry for nothing. I wanted nothing more than to belong to you. You cannot know how delightful it is to wake up and discover that it is so." Cradling Elrond's face in his hands, Legolas murmured, "Let us be happy that we are joined, Elrond."

"But you do not… you cannot… want me," Elrond protested.

"Back to that, are we?"

"What do you mean?"

Rocking back on his heels, Legolas scowled up at his mate. "This is precisely where we were the night you first invited me to join you here, in your chambers. Of coruse I want you."

"No, you don't."

"Why, if I do not want you, would I invite you to repeat our joining?"

"To reassure me." Those grey eyes held obstinence immovable. "I told you weeks ago that it is unacceptable that you would merely endure my touch."

"Endure you?" Cursing in Sindarin, Legolas threw himself into the chair opposite Elrond. "You are a most stubborn Elf-lord."

"I am," Elrond growled agreement. Sitting straighter in his chair, he confronted a slouching, frustrated Legolas. "You have said yourself that we have come full circle to where we began. Shall we see precisely how prepared you are this night for my desire?"

Leaning forward, Elrond lifted the hem of Legolas tunic. Holding Legolas' rebellious gaze, he untied the drawstring leggings and slid his hand inside. Legolas gasped but did not flinch as Elrond ran his hand across the Elf's bare stomach.

"Your muscling is once again tight and hard," Elrond observed. "You've regained what was lost in Thranduil's dungeon."

"I am glad you approve. I would also appreciate it," said Legolas, through gritted teeth, "if you'd not mention the King of Mirkwood while you are touching me. His name…destroys the mood as it were, my Elrond."

"Of course. What was I thinking?" He all but smirked at Legolas and was rewarded with another Sindarin oath.

Sliding a hand up Legolas' thigh, Elrond felt hard muscle contract. "You are magnificent. Are you preparing to kick me as would Assassin?"

"Only if you stop." The blue eyes were blazing, the challenge offered by Elrond answered and flung back at the Elf-lord with that one sentence. Long fingers dug into the arms of the chair. A square jaw lifted, those elegant nostrils flared.

Proud stallion indeed, thought Elrond. Was the magnificent, shining warrior prince slouching before him truly the same Elf whom Elrond had rescued – emaciated and delirious, already across the threshold of death's door—only a few weeks before in Mirkwood?

Whatever happens between us, Elrond told himself with no small satisfaction, he will live. He may kick me in the teeth and stride from this chamber in outrage, but he will still be among the living. Is that not what I asked? Is it not all that I would ever dare ask of him, that he breathe and be in this world so that I might keep him safe – even from me?

Perhaps it was all he had asked while carrying Legolas into the pool of water those few weeks ago, but the Elf-lord's hands were committed to asking other questions now: one of his hands was still caressing Legolas' warm, tight stomach while the other pursued a more dangerous path between the Elf's legs.

Legolas did not close his eyes when, for only the second time in their association, Elrond slid his hand inward, toward that most intimate, warm, and guarded of spaces. Moaning softly, Legolas dropped back his head, arched slightly, and spread his legs. "Please, Elrond…touch me."

"Sweet Elbereth."

"I would hope she's not listening, but granting us some privacy tonight." His blue eyes had darkened, he arched again as his desire burgeoned, pressed against Elrond's fingers. A narrowing of the eyes, a soft growl. "Elrond…."

Elrond cradled his mate's need. "You…. You're…."

"I want this and all else that lies between us," Legolas hissed. Sliding forward in the chair, he rested a finger against Elrond's lips. "The time of arguing the finer points of this bonding have ended, my Lord Elrond. You are taking me to bed, or I am taking you to bed. There, we shall re-establish our bond. All of your questions will be answered. All of your doubts will dissolve like Imladris mist. You will love me, I will love you, and that will be all that matters." His nose nuzzled Elrond's. "Agreed?"

"Agreed," Elrond breathed.

Strong, slender hands captured Elrond's. "'Then come and let us love each other."

As if in dream, Elrond followed Legolas to their bed. Extinguishing all of the candles but one, Legolas tossed aside boots, tunics and leggings until both he and Elrond were naked in the half-light. Kneeling on the bed, Legolas coaxed his mate beside him.

"I do love you," the younger Elf breathed against Elrond's ear before running his tongue along its shell.

"As I love you, my prince."

"Then trust me, Elrond, please, to know what I want. I already know what you want."

Shivering against teeth and tongue and hands that were so much younger than his own, but seemed somehow to know so much about touching him, Elrond surrendered and allowed Legolas to guide him down onto the sheets. Legolas lay over him then, stretched out across the barrel chest, fitting his long legs over Elrond's and his need alongside Elrond's own and resting, contented to be there.

"Touch me. Please… just touch me," Legolas breathed once more, this time against Elrond's mouth while his own hands explored his mate with a joy and an eagerness the Elf-lord had never dreamed anyone could feel for him.

Elrond reached for the liquid light that was Legolas' hair and allowed himself the sheer, sensuous joy of carding his fingers through it again and again. Even as he did so, Legolas' lips were everywhere – on his mouth, tracing a path up his nose an between his eyes, kissing his eyelids so that Elrond had to close his eyes against the light that was Legolas and the love that he not deny was now feel flooding their bond.

Softly, Legolas began to sing. The words and the melody wove itself around Elrond, so that he found himself lost in both.

"ALL the words that I utter,

And all the words that I write,

Must spread out their wings untiring,

And never rest in their flight,

Till they come where your sad, sad heart is,

And sing to you in the night,

Beyond where the waters are moving,

Storm-darken'd or starry bright."

W.B. Yeats, "Where My Books Go"

There was healing in the sound, more healing in the emotions pouring off of the Elf he held. Tears squeezed out the corners of Elrond's eyes, and Legolas wiped them away gently only to follow with kisses. "I would have the love we share hold no sadness for you."

"It doesn't." Elrond shook his head. "Your touch, your… being… has seen to that, my prince…" Long, shaking fingers reached to undo the braids at Legolas' temple. "Legolas, you are so very beautiful to me."

"As are you to me."

That this spirit of light made flesh would deign to belong to him, Elrond could scarcely believe. But the outpouring of love and sheer delight he was feeling through their bond made it impossible for the Elf-lord to deny: somehow, at sometime, Legolas had indeed chosen to love him. The bond he had shared with Celebrian had never held such tenderness, nor such strength and contained power. I suppose that is the difference between bonding with Celeborn's daughter and a fierce warrior of Mirkwood.

"Elbereth bless the day you were sent to me."

"May she also bless the day you carried me from the darkness."

Lips and hands touched, grew more urgent until remembered pain receded and rapture discovered replaced it. The kisses and the explorations, the whispers and the touching continued long after the single candle burning in the chamber guttered and went out. The darkness held no fear for Legolas now, cradled as he and Elrond were in the first night leading into forever.

EPILOGUE

Ensconsed with Elrond's in his library the next afternoon while discussing the mayhaps and might-nots surrounding Dol Guldur, Mithrandir amused himself by lighting his pipe and creating creatures and things out of the ensuing smoke.

"You realize all of this is pure conjecture," Elrond reminded the wizard.

"I do. But it's always wise to consider from all angles a question so ponderous as this one."

"I question whether any of us are wise enough to see all of the possibilities inherent in the Dark Lord's possible return."

Elrond's attention was abruptly diverted by Legolas' striding in at near dusk. Perching on a corner of the desk, Legolas nodded in Mithrandir's general direction before leaning forward to accept the kiss Elrond offered. The conversation continued, but the wizard had the distinct impression the Elf-lord wasn't really paying attention to anything being said.

"Well, I think it's time I resumed my travels," Mithrandir offered. "I'm going to Lothlorien next. Legolas, would you like to come with me?"

"Hmm? What?" The bright blue eyes raised to meet his, but seemed as distracted as Elrond. "The twins are growing restless, you might ask them to accompany you."

"The twins?" The wizard scoffed. "I can't expect any sort of decent conversation from them. No, it's you I'd like to travel with me. What do you say?"

"I say no." Legolas offered a smile to soften the refusal as Glorfindel wandered into the library from realms unknown. "How are the horses?"

"Fine. What did I miss?" The legendary warrior threw himself into a nearby chair and beamed at his companions.

"You've missed Legolas refusing to accompany me to Lothlorian. What is this?" Mithrandir rounded on the Elf in question. "You're letting four walls and a stuffy routine contain you? Legolas, if you stay here in Imladris, you'll become as boring and mouldy as the tomes Elrond guards." Gesturing with his pipe, the wizard indicated the vast library surrounding them.

Legolas nodded. "Boring sounds good."

"Give it up, Mithrandir," said Glorfindel. "They're so besotted with celebrating their bonding, I can't coax either of them out to the stable any more."

"We've been distracted by other things," said Legolas. "It's not forever."

"Distracted? Is that what they're calling lying a-bed until mid-day, these days? Who'd have thought. Not to mention the gossip resulting from the activities everyone thinks the two of you are--"

"Glorfindel!"

"I'll visit your stable tomorrow," Legolas offered.

"Morning?"

"Afternoon."

Glorfindel shrugged. "Predictable."

"Well, then…." Mithrandir said slowly, looking from Elf-lord to Elf prince. "I suppose that miracles do happen if you've managed to tame this one's wanderlust."

"I think you'll find that Legolas lusts after other something—or someone—else these days." Glorfindel smirked.

"Stop that," Elrond ordered.

"It's all right. I don't mind. He can say what he wants, he's just a bit upset I won't babysit him this spring."

"Babysit?" Mithrandir sputtered. "I'm quite capable of traveling by myself. I only fancied a bit of company—"

"Talk to the twins and stop whingeing," Elrond ordered. "And both of you—behave."

Coming up beside Legolas, Mithrandir hugged him hard. "In all seriousness, Legolas, I am happy you have found a home at the end of a long journey I was certain would end in misery. For once, I am all too happy to have been wrong."

"Thank you, Mith."

"Be well, both of you."

"Come along, Master Wizard." Glorfindel rose from his chair. "Let's stop tormenting these two for a bit and see what's for supper."

"That sounds delightful." Winking at Legolas, the wizard followed Glorfindel from the library.

"Are you certain you don't want to go with Mithrandir to Lothlorien?"

"You know I am." Leaning down, Legolas invited another kiss.

Passing Glorfindel, Mithrandir was startled when the elf-lord paused on the threshold to look back.

"Now there's a sight I never thought to see."

Glancing over his shoulder, Mithrandir saw nothing amiss. Turning, he observed Legolas still sitting on the corner of Elrond's desk, while Elrond searched through a stack of papers for something that seemed to be elluding him. The soft murmur of voices reached the two, but no words could be made out.

"What did you never think to see?"

Staring down at the papers, Legolas snagged one and offered it to Elrond, who smiled and took it.

Glorfindel gestured. "Those two. One at home, claimed, and contented to be so. The other at peace, loved, and contented to be so."


End file.
